A friend of mine has a saying that he’s convinced his daughter is true, “Every day is Daddy’s Day.”

To many of us with daughters who are Daddy’s girls, that seems reasonable. Just don’t say it a lot in front of Mom.

Father’s Day is still a special holiday in our house. This year, both of my children made things for me, which is way cooler than anything bought in a store.

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Charles parted with one of the paintings he did as a guest of Becky Collins’ art class. It’s a splatter design that is well done and as soon as I can make a frame, it will be on my wall at work.

Kathryn used a couple of pieces of scrap wood from the dad of her friend, Lauren. With them, she made a label, like what you’d see along a nature trail. It reads, “The Dad — A dad is an animal who is a male. He eats almost any type of food. He loves and looks after his young and wife. He is a funny creature. They live in every state!”

I’ve put this on my desk in my office for a few reasons. First, it is humorous and came from her own creative mind. Second, just in case someone can’t figure out what I am, they will have a definition of me in my natural habitat. And, maybe most importantly, she didn’t include a note saying “Don’t Feed the Dad,” so be careful if you visit and have food with you.

As I do most Father’s Day holidays, I wore a shirt the children made for me seven years ago. It includes their handprints. Of course we had to go through the routine of Charles and Kathryn putting their hands over their small prints to see how much they’ve grown.

It is quite a compliment for any father to hear his pre-teen children say that Dad is still cool, even if he does listen to that old-fashioned music and (yuck in the mind of children) radio news. Charles and I have an arrangement when we travel. Most of the time, I can listen to my music (news) on the way to some place; he can listen to his (noise, uh, music) on the way back. So far it’s worked out OK.

That arrangement is better than the one I had with my parents during my teen years. With most of my siblings moved out of the house or having their own transportation, I would sit in the back seat listening to my mom singing hymns on the way to church. My father, oblivious to what my mother was singing, would be humming some tune known but to him. It wasn’t recognizable to anyone else. Oh, it might have been a song most people had heard of, it’s just that my father’s musical ability was challenged. He was fortunate to be able to play the radio.

Still, there are times I fondly reminisce about my father. We clashed as most teens and their dads do; and there were circumstances that took him away from me during some developmental years. But later in life, as though my father awoke from Rip Van Winkle slumber, he began to be more active in my life. The sad part was it was in later teen years when I had better things to do than spend a whole lot of time with the old man. What a poor choice on my part.

There are times that I wonder about what might be different had my dad and I spent more time together. I know that whatever I’ve learned from my Dad, by his action or inaction, I try to pass along to my children by emulating that which is good and avoiding what I interpret as not good.

As for spending time with my children, I try as much as possible so that when they grow up and start families of their own, their children might catch them smiling while reminiscing about me. That would be my most important legacy.

JEFF ZERINGUE is managing editor of The Daily Iberian. He can be reached at iberianedit@bellsouth.net.