My father Stan Fanning wasn’t the fastest player in the National Football League, nor did he have the best arm.
But during the 1961 season, he earned his own superlative—the local media named him Chicago Bear’s “Biggest Bear.” His statistics—6 ft. 7in., 270 pounds—seem almost puny by today’s NFL lineup, but in 1961 when he swaggered onto the field and took his place as an offensive tackle, he was the biggest man in the game….
From my essay, Chicken Farmer to Chicago Bear (My Dad is My Hero, 2009). Read the rest here.
(Last in a series celebrating the men who have shown me the meaning of dignity and courage, as well as giving me a love for books, skiing, and RVing (and an appreciation for wrench collecting). Read the rest of the series: 1. Catching Butterflies with the General, 2. The RVing Gene, and 3. The Aggie Wrench Collector.)
I have loved your Celebrating Fathers posts. I can remember so vividly our butterfly nets and running all over catching them. Mom’s house was a haven for them. So many. I hardly see butterflies anymore. One of our first trips to Houston, Cory and I went to a museum that had a butterfly sanctuary. It was gorgeous and they were fluttering ALL OVER. It was absolutely gorgeous.
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Thanks, Lou! To be surrounded by fluttering butterflies sounds lovely. Happy summer and butterfly hunting!