Father's Day

Dad, Daddy, Father, Pops, Daddy-O, Faja, etc. We joke around and call my dad many names but at the end of it all he’s just good ole Dad. Greg Baker is someone that is one-of-a-kind, to say the least. He’s not over the top or overtly “gushy” but he’s lovable nonetheless. There are certain things that come to mind when thinking of and celebrating him. They are things that make him who he is and things that are so comforting when being around him.

He never has clean fingernails – Never. He’s a working man with working man hands and I can’t imagine him with smooth hands. They’re the type of hands that show what he’s done all day, whether it be because of a purple nail that he slammed in something, or splinters stuck under the skin, or just the wear and tear of over 40 years of hard work. He has a distinct “Dad” smell. It’s a mixture of grease, tobacco, and every now and then the hint of a fire somewhere. It’s a smell that only his daughters can appreciate and learn to love. He always drives a red truck, always has as far as I remember (even though I’ve seen pictures of a green one), and it’s always a Chevy. He wears lace up boots and socks with sandals. He rocks a pretty awesome mustache (never seen him without one) and not quite as much hair as he used to. He doesn’t always have a ton to say, but I’ve learned with age that when he speaks – listen.  But, the best is when he hugs. There’s this little squeeze at the end of the hug that is the best.

My sisters and I are awfully blessed by having the Dad we do. He may not have always been home every second of the day, but he was always out working for us. He was the first one at every ball game and the last one to leave from working on the field. Dad not only completed supported my decision to live in Togo, West Africa for a year, but he (surprisingly!) came to visit with my mom! He loves all three of us girls and our mom unlike any one else could. Between the four of us, we’ve given him enough grief to last anyone a lifetime and yet he sticks through it all. He’s seen us through collectively at least ten proms, numerous boyfriends, and enough drama to drive anyone crazy, but he turns a blind eye and laughs through the details.

He’s Greg-o and he’s my dad.






Dad with some of the Christians in Togo while out visiting the villages 



Giving me some "pre-wedding" laughs while taking pictures.