I never knew my father as an able-bodied man, and his example speaks volumes.

He was a fighter. His mind was sharp, and his charismatic wit would always light up a room. Oh, and he loved Christmas. :)

I miss my dad.

I could learn so much from him today.

He still teaches me things as my eyes open more to who he was and the example he set.

I wish him a happy Father’s Day by telling a tiny portion of his story and sharing a few memories.

If you’re a dad, happy Father’s Day to you. 8^)

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This article was originally published on June 15th, 2025. It has been slightly modified and received a new voiceover for 2026.

My dad grew up in the 50s and 60s as a middle child of 5 boys. He moved around the Midwest and eventually settled in Las Vegas. In the late 70s, my parents had just bought their first house, were expecting their first child, and were excited about the lives they were about to build together.

My dad had a freak accident a few months before I was born. That accident left him mostly paralyzed from the neck down and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The official term was Quadriparesis - partial loss of feeling/use/movement in all four limbs.

In a way, he got lucky. If the same injury happened just a couple years earlier, the difference in medical technology meant he would not have survived.

He was always a fighter. His diagnosis meant he’d be lucky to live 10 years. He made it 40 more.

The example he set — handling such a significant injury, at such a young age, with such grace, humility, and humor — still teaches me things today.

I don’t know what those medals were for, but he was clearly happy about them!

Because he was a fighter, he remained relatively independent. We led what seemed like typical middle-class lives, except Dad was usually home. While we didn’t do some of the typical father/son things like fishing, hiking, or playing catch, we bonded over things like chess, computers, Star Trek, and a love for just about anything sci-fi.

With the stereotypical 80’s kid vibe of “come home when the streetlights turn on,” I self-entertained pretty well and would often arrive at twilight hungry.

This isn’t a picture of my dad’s car… but it’s his car. An Olds 88 like this was his chariot when he regained mobility. For almost 20 years he folded up his chair and put it in the back seat himself.

I have fond memories of TCTs, hot dogs, and other fun/healthy stuff (usually from a can) we’d throw together for dinner when Mom had to work and it was a “fend (for yourself) night” for us.

He was my ‘chauffeur’ for most of my school events until I got my license. (He also taught me how to start his Olds-88 diesel with WD-40.) He was there for every band concert and football game. I never truly appreciated how much effort that took, and how much dedication he showed.

After I joined the service, he was always thrilled when I would come home. Though I spent most (perhaps a little too much) of my annual leave visiting my parents, there was never enough time with my Dad.

Two other things we both loved: Mountains and Christmas. Mountains were more my thing. Christmas was definitely his.

Every time I’d visit, we made sure to swing through the Red Rock mountain loop at least once.

If I visited after Thanksgiving, he was almost certainly in “Wheelchair Santa” mode. (Sometimes he’d start that right after Halloween…)

Dad and I loved to drive through the Red Rock mountains.

Starting the day after Thanksgiving… sometimes earlier … my dad was “Wheelchair Santa”

And finally… this post would not be complete without including his prized Christmas setup. For over 20 yeas he curated his Christmas collection, and this video was his moment to capture all his ornaments. And yes, that is a Death Star topping the first tree and several variants of the USS Enterprise adorning the third. ;^)

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there.

Take care,

- jofty :)