An Ode to Dad

On steadiness, Saturday nights, and the phone that no longer rings

“It’s your dear old Dad.”

The phone would ring once a week — back when I still had a landline — and there he was, same greeting every time. I was in my twenties, newly out of college and in my first apartment. Then in my thirties, owning my own home, advancing through my career. Then in my forties, married to Lee and settled into the life that, Dad made …