Every so often we hear a cry for a return to the masculinity of more assertive men as fathers, and I couldn’t agree more. We have lost so much in our families by embracing feminism and must now deal with several generations lacking strong male role models. And yet, there is a similar cry to bring back the gentlemen of my father’s generation from World War II.

My dad was drafted into the U.S. Army as a reporter writing on the ground in Nazi Germany. His organizational skills were such that he put the body counts in writing and was part of the second wave of fighters in support of the Normandy landings on D-Day. He earned accolades for his work and could recall being in the same room as General Patton and General Eisenhower. Later, back in the United States, Dad worked a job that only his father wanted him to do and gave up his pre-war work in chemistry to do so. I can remember as a child Dad still reliving what must have been nightmarish memories of witnessing the fighting in the War, as he would wake up shaking and screaming. Still, the strong, devout Catholic man that he was, Dad got up the next day and in good cheer went to work.

For the bold character that he had after going through so much, my father was the type of man all women and children wanted to be around. He was almost always smiling and could see the good in any situation. He told some great jokes but most importantly, he never put anybody down or acted like he was better than anyone else. Dad made people feel welcome in our home like they were members of the family.

Not only did he welcome our friends, but Dad also welcomed the poor who rang our front doorbell asking for help. I recall seeing him give them cash with few questions asked. Dad never made anyone feel uncomfortable about his or her identity. He never discriminated against a person’s race or religion and never told racist or sexist jokes. He never smoked or drank to excess. And after he retired, Dad attended daily Mass. One of my fondest memories is of Dad praying the Angelus out loud when the church bells rang each evening at 6 o’clock in our small town.

My father was my mother’s best friend. As a visiting cousin once noted, you could see how much the two of them truly enjoyed being with one another even in their old age. There was never any heavy-handed talk or overbearing temperament displayed by my father. Mom and Dad were really partners — two people in love.

Dad was a man with imperfections like the rest of us, but I hope some of his qualities can resurface in American society. Boys and girls need strong fathers — fathers they can trust enough to talk with. They need role models who are so in love with our Lord and his Church that they radiate Christ. We are missing a class of people imbued with the graces of gentleness and humility from receiving the sacraments and from bearing many sufferings and wrongs patiently.

The meek really do inherit the earth. At my father’s funeral, the priest at Mass recounted that he had heard Dad’s confession and that he was convinced that Dad would hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” A cousin remarked at the funeral lunch that my siblings and I could be thankful that we did not have the very bad memories many have of their fathers.

It is kindness and goodness that we need to infuse once again into our daily lives. We can make the tough choices required but with cheerfulness and respect for those involved. We can start by offering each day to God, our loving Father, who is always with us so that we need not be afraid.

I love you, Dad! Thanks again for everything!