World’s greatest dad

We, some of Kelly’s kids, hijacked Dad’s regular column this week to tell some stories about him.

Elena (#4)

I’m not sure if my dad knows this but he has always been my hero. I’ve looked up to him my entire life and not just because he was a towering and powerful 6’7”. He was the biggest and strongest man I could possibly imagine. He made sure we were all able to explore any interests and supported us all along the way. “Mr. Kelly” was a frequent driver to soccer practices & tournaments with a Ford Expedition full of 12-year-old girls. He provided us with everything we needed and more. We all got cars when we turned 16, and not just boring cars, cool cars. My first car was a burnt orange 1973 MGB coupe and I thought working on it with him was the coolest thing in the world. He put notes in the lunches he packed for us and rarely missed an important event. He was the type of dad who would almost always take the opportunity to stop for an ice cream on the way home if it was just the two of us in the car.

Speaking of cars, he also constantly taught us valuable life lessons. When we were learning to drive, we all had to practice steering off the road and then slowly merging back on to not over correct and flip. I’m not sure if he remembers this, but I was crying about some middle school drama once and he came in and sat on my bed to talk to me. His advice really stuck with me as a 12-year-old: kill them with kindness. He told stories of similar situations he had been in and how killing them with kindness is the only way to win. Even if it’s something such as holding the door open for someone who you may not like, which he apparently used to do all the time in the courthouse.

On top of putting bad guys in jail, he raised six awesome kids who would do anything in the world for him. Including spending a summer in a 2-bedroom condo in Jacksonville, FL, to make sure he got to all of his treatments. He has remained so desirously and annoyingly positive and never wavered in his belief that life is beautiful and it’s worth fighting through the jungle to get to the beach.

I’ll never forget one day in Jacksonville, we had just gotten back to the condo from getting a treatment at the Mayo Clinic. I sat on the couch exhausted, and he went in the kitchen, started scooting around on his walker chair and began cooking for us. This man who hasn’t been able to eat in years, who just spent an exhausting day getting cancer treatment, and the first thing he does when we get back is insist on making food for us. 

That year for Father’s day, he asked for us to donate blood for him. We got 27 pints donated all together, and each pint can save 3 lives. That’s the kind of man my dad is. While cancer may have taken away a lot of his physical strength, he is still undeniably the strongest man I know and will always be my hero. I’m number four, now you get to hear from three more!

Maryl (#1)

I have two sons: the oldest is five and the younger one is 18 months old. When I was about my oldest son’s age, I remember my dad playing “The Three Little Pigs” with us before bed every single night (at least in my memory). I and my two younger siblings would be the three little pigs and my dad was the big bad wolf. He would come to each of us in turn, crawling around on all fours, and huffing and puffing and blowing our pretend houses down. In the end, he would catch us and we would get tickled and tickled. I thought he was so so funny as a big bad wolf!

I also remember my dad giving me so many shoulder rides when I was little, which were so so so high. I thought they were hilarious and loved to wave at people from 8 or 9 feet high. I also remember regularly giving my dad “slobber kisses” while I was up there, which I’m pretty sure was just the equivalent of slobbering all over his face. He did not like the slobber kisses but usually laughed at first, and then would very gently try to get me to stop giving him the flu.

Torri (#3)

One summer afternoon, we were out in the backyard playing a competitive game of HORSE with Dad. The sun was sinking just enough to cast golden shadows on the cracked driveway, and we were all feeling a little too confident in our trick shots. Dad, of course, decided it was time to show off. He announced his move with dramatic flair. Something about a one-legged, behind-the-back, off-the-house shot… He took a few theatrical steps toward the basket. Just as he released the ball (which clanked off the rim, by the way), his back foot caught on the old tree stump we’d all told him to remove a hundred times.

What happened next felt like it unfolded in slow motion. Dad’s arms flailed, his eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards in what looked like an ambulance-response-level disaster about to happen. But instead of falling flat, he somehow tumbled into a perfectly executed backwards somersault. Legs over head, shirt riding up, he landed upright with his arms stretched high in a gymnast’s “ta-da” pose. There was a beat of stunned silence before we all burst into laughter. HORSE may have been the game, but that landing? That was pure legend.

Alden (#6 — P.S. Her name is Alden because they were “all done” having kids…)

When I was roughly six years old, I was playing in my best friend’s yard down the street one Friday after school when my dad pulled up to the cul-de-sac, calling my name out the window. “Get in! It’s time to go” he says. As any well behaved, angel child does, I obliged. Immediately. Off we went, and we went, and we went. At some point, I realized I had definitely messed up by not grabbing my shoes. As I was still working up the courage to admit that I was bare foot, we pulled into the Braves game, ready to have a family fun night. One by one, we all climbed out. As I scrambled out of the rear-most seat, I hung my head in shame, finally admitting I didn’t bring shoes. My dad laughed, threw me on his shoulders, and walked from the car, into the game, and straight into the gift shop where he purchased over-priced branded flip flops. Here’s to my dad who has always helped carry me through life’s obstacles!

We love you dad, happy Father’s Day—you deserve the best one.

Kelly Burke was born in Knoxville where he spent his younger years, followed by high school years in Atlanta where he graduated from Georgia Tech. He then graduated from Mercer Law School. He has been in private practice, a magistrate judge, and an elected district attorney. He writes about the law, politics, music and Ireland. He and his wife enjoy gardening, playing with their Lagotto Ramanolo named George Harrison, and spending time with their grandchildren.