Andy Helland

When I see the hills behind our house glow at sunset, hear a mockingbird sing or see the stars at night, I think of my father.
He has what I’ll call a photographer’s soul. From him, I learned to stop and enjoy the little things in life—from the color of the clouds at the close of each day to the first harvest of tomatoes from our garden.
I can best describe my father as a good man. When I was young, he went to work early so he could be home when I returned from school. He never missed a recital or an awards ceremony, often putting in odd hours just so he could be present.
As the father of a daughter, he fulfilled the stereotypical duties of squashing monstrous spiders, fixing things and helping me ride my first bike.
Dad has always been my teacher. He continues to explain things with love and patience—and occasional offbeat jokes—until they make sense. I have come to believe that the best measure of a father’s love is his kindness and patience.
To my Dad on Fathers’ Day: You’ve given me a sense of humor, an appreciation of beauty and a love of music—all things that make life good. I’m so lucky to call you my Dad. Happy Father’s Day!
Katie Helland, reporter