To the Dads who run their own businesses...

This Sunday will be the 48th Father’s Day I haven’t been able to give my dad a hug, a call, or an engraved cigarette lighter.

(My sisters and I did that—gave him a lighter one year—because he was a human smokestack, burning through two packs of Tareytons a day.)

Our dad was a member of the "Greatest Generation"—a Depression-era kid who later served as a Navy captain during World War II.

Post-war, he earned a business degree, married my mom, and went to work for a big hardware company. That experience showed him he wanted to be his own boss. So, he up and started a construction company.

Dad poured himself into that business, because, as my mother often explained, “He believes in hard work. He wants to be a good provider.” (Her polite way of saying, "Yes, your father IS a workaholic.")

But a successful one! In time, his crews and subcontractors were building, on average, one new home a week.

He was fearless. He started a construction supply warehouse (think: the prehistoric version of Lowe's).

He next started a profitable real estate company.

And then he started...coughing.

Enter lung cancer.

In five months, he was gone.

Flash forward 48 years.

I have my own copywriting business.

And lately, I've found myself thinking, "I wish I could pick my dad's business brain and solicit his advice. He could teach me so much!"

Yesterday, it hit me, "He DID teach me so much!"

• He taught me that business requires integrity.

Dad once had a business partner who took an enormous sum of money from a client and disappeared. Would you believe my father worked for YEARS to repay every penny of that debt?

• He taught me that business is messy.

As a cartoon-watching 8-year-old, it was my job each Saturday morning to polish Dad’s wingtip work shoes. Ugh! Those big brogans were always caked with mud from mucky construction sites.

• He taught me that business is stressful.

I remember—most Thursday nights—seeing the orange glow of my father's cigarette bobbing up and down in the driveway. Years later I learned why. He was out there fretting about cash flow—"How am I going to meet payroll tomorrow?!"

• He taught me that business is worth it.

Through his work, Dad touched a lot of lives. He provided amply for us. He also built quality homes where so many were able to create families and memories—and where people TODAY are still making lunch and jokes and babies.

He was generous with his employees. He always treated them with respect. And he was highly esteemed in the community (as the editorial below shows).

On Sunday, I won’t get the chance to say this to my dad, but I can say it to all you business owner-fathers who are still with us, still working hard:

What you do matters—and it will STILL matter decades from now.

So, be encouraged. Thank you! And...

Happy Father’s Day!