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Dad is great. Dad's story My dad always said that the children of our generation are poor, can't play, and won't have fun, unlike when they were covered in dirt but extremely happy. -Inscription My father grew up in northern Shaanxi. Although I have been a national cadre in the city for more than ten years, my father is still willing to keep the way of thinking in the countryside and the way of thinking when I was a child: avoiding dust and pursuing the most natural essence. Therefore, my father always finds his happiness in the food in his hometown, the countryside and the farmers. (1) Father doesn't like to eat delicacies, 1000 yuan grand banquet, sitting in a teahouse drinking tea seriously and drinking with people in ties and suits. Father said that this kind of life is always not a taste, but it is not happy at all. My father likes to eat bowls of mutton noodles, jiaozi with half a fist stuffed with mutton and radish, Qian Qian rice, salt porridge, freshly baked salt potatoes, and pumpkin seeds in northern Shaanxi ... My mother always said that my father would not enjoy it, but my father said that the life of a farmer was his greatest happiness. This is my father's way of thinking. What I pursue is not the so-called quality, but the happiness in memory! (2) My father doesn't like sitting in a limousine, sitting in front of a computer TV all day for endless entertainment, lying in a massage chair reading newspapers comfortably and chatting endlessly. Father said that this kind of life seems to be leisurely, but it is not comfortable, let alone happiness. On weekends, my father likes to ride a motorcycle around the farm in suburban counties, climb a small mound, put on his hat and take a comfortable nap, and then hum freely and look at the endless wheat fields. Walk around, look around. Once, my father was invited to taste fresh persimmons just picked and went home for a night. This is my father's way of thinking. He does not pursue the so-called emotional appeal, but wisely draws happiness from nature! (3) Father doesn't like high-sounding pleasantries, intrigue with officials, and disingenuous greetings and sending. Father said that this kind of life may be beautiful to some people, but it is actually an empty shell and not happy at all. My father likes to deal with farmers, and he is willing to chat with the fried dough sticks at home about the crops in the field, and he is also willing to get off and help the old man get on a shelf car. It is more common to sit on the edge of a farmer's kang and eat a bowl of noodle soup on weekends. Calling a few farmer friends to have a good drink at home can make my father happy for several days. This is my father's way of thinking, not pursuing the so-called scenery, but getting happiness and happiness in the simplest conversation with farmers! Father's way of thinking is the simplest and most natural, so he has the most comfortable happiness. I wish my father happiness forever! Father's story (2) Life ends with the disappearance of the body, so missing has become a way of mourning. Among countless pieces, I picked up some pieces and pieced them together into a person. My father has been in poor health, and I have lived in my grandmother's house since I was a child. When I was 7 years old, because of my mother's work, I returned home-a complete stranger's home. My father has a bad temper, and my mother is patient everywhere, but I have never seen a smile on his face, as if becoming a veteran of the family is worthy of the name. He stipulates that dinner must be served before six o'clock every night. Once, my mother cooked fish and ate dinner very late. My father sat in the plush chair without saying a word. The slightly fat body drive is like a rusty kettle. Once heated, it can boil. I dare not go near it for fear that it will explode. It seems that once the gate is opened, angry words will flood in. Therefore, every day I obey the rules and dare not break the rules. One day, because the bus was late for work, it was already half past six when I got home. I am hesitant, and I have been afraid to enter the door and wander around the house. Father dragged his sick body to open the door and found me at the door. I turned and ran away. Before I could, I felt my shoulder loose and my schoolbag had been taken off. Does he want to hit me? I didn't dare to think much. My father just patted me on the head and took me in. "Are you hungry?" Seeing me nod, I kept putting food into the bowl. With the aggravation of my studies, I go home later and later, and that rule gradually exists in name only, but my father will still sit in the plush chair and shake his kettle-like body back and forth, waiting for my mother and I to come back for dinner. Day after day, year after year, finally one day the figure in the plush chair disappeared ... Only my mother would have dinner before six o'clock and then wait for me to go home. Whenever night falls, I seem to hear his roar in my ear again, and poker sees a grumpy and stubborn father smiling. I know that there is a saying that he has been deeply buried in his heart and has never been able to say it from his closed mouth: "I love you, son!" " "