Every summer my Dad made jam with fresh berries—usually strawberries and logan berries. He made enough to give a couple jars to each of his kids (five of us) and keep several for himself. The jam was quite tasty and used almost every morning in our house on toast or pancakes.
A couple of years after he died (2001), I happened to remark to my husband’s supervisor how much I missed his annual jam gift. Not sure how the subject came up--we were at a company function just making idle chat, about this time of year, around Father’s Day.
A few days later I find a couple of jars of homemade strawberry jam on the kitchen counter. Unknown to me, the supervisor made jam for his family each year too; and that year he made sure I had two jars. Well, you know what an impact it had on me; I have a hard time writing about it without getting tears.
A very nice man made another special memory for me on Father’s Day.
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