Happy Father's Day to stepdads, too

By Patrick Johnston
Published: June 19, 2009

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I’m going to see my dad this weekend.

We have a different last name, different interests and different genes. He wasn’t around for my birth. He never saw me learn how to walk, and he didn’t take me to my first day of kindergarten.

But I’m blessed to have James Runions as my dad. If you want to be technical, he’s my stepfather. But based on the last 21 years, he qualifies to just be called “Dad.”

I’m like many of you. I grew up in a stepfamily. I was born at an early age to Terry and Kathy Johnston (you’ll get the joke later). They loved each other, and they loved me.

“Dad Terry” was a riot. He called me Dogbreath, and I called him Moosemouth. He worked the overnight shift at the coal mine to provide for the family. But when he returned home on Saturday mornings he delayed going to bed just so he could watch cartoons with me. He’s the reason I’m a fan of Peanuts, and Rocky and Bullwinkle. I didn’t inherit his love for Alabama football, but maybe he’ll forgive me for that.

Unfortunately, “Dad Terry” died of cancer on Oct. 31, 1984. I was 7. My mom did an outstanding job as a single parent, yet realized that I needed a father. So in 1988, she married James Runions.

I was like most stepchildren. I didn’t warm up to him at first. Actually, I didn’t warm up to him for many years. To me, we were as different as Obama and Rush. When I wanted to watch ESPN, he had the television on “This Old House.” I must admit, I treated him poorly as a preteen and teenager. Fortunately I’m not a teenager now, and I realize that I was a blessed person. You see, my new dad never gave up on me. Even though he had a son of his own, he treated us both like his sons.

Read more of Patrick's column in the weekend edition of The Tribune avaliable Friday, June 19.
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