Dads, Daughters, Love

Posted on by Victoria

Do you know about this book?

It’s a gem, an oldie from the children’s Wonder Book series, published in 1952.

I’ve had a lifelong love of bunnies. Maybe you read this recent post – about bunnies and a favorite book of another sort. Two days after I shared that story, I fell down an oddly coincidental rabbit hole, rediscovering a magical moment from my childhood.

When I was five, my dad – also named Sonny – gave me “Sonny the Lucky Bunny” after a particularly difficult episode in our house. It was around the time that I began asking questions about my disabled sister Lisa and the differences I noticed between us. Lisa was a little bit older, and I didn’t understand her inability to do some of the things I did easily. Running, jumping…and reading, especially.

I don’t know where my dad found the book, but he made a point of gifting it to me during a memorable overnight adventure. A pocket of time he carved out in his busy schedule for the two of us.

I had no idea how poor we were or how stressed my dad was at the time, thanks in part to his easy-going demeanor (one of the things I miss most about him). He was always on the move – working three jobs, one of which was an overnight paper route. As I grew older, I understood the reason for his relentlessness. Lisa’s medical bills were enormous, creating tremendous tension for Sonny the breadwinner, who worked around the clock.

Somehow he made time for me, allowing me to tag along one night as he delivered newspapers in a twenty-mile radius around our home in rural Ohio.

A road trip as a tot…after dark…when donuts were involved? All in! When he whispered the plan to me, he could’ve stopped when he mentioned a late-night, pajama-wearing donut run. I didn’t need much coaxing and yet I knew there was danger. For two reasons:

  1. I’d never been allowed in his work truck. It was huge and dirty. No seatbelts and certainly no car seats. But Sonny propped me up and piled newspapers high on the floorboards on the passenger side so I could see over the dashboard, bundled in blankets. Protective gear, circa 1967.
  2. Dad’s other condition had an overtone: “Your mom cannot know. Our secret.” I’d never heard him say anything like that before and saw the intensity in his eyes. I promised, but I remember worrying about Sue’s rage if she found out about our escapade. Still…the motivation was strong. Time with my dad and donuts.

I remember riding along, enjoying how my dad interacted with the “night people” – the folks we met during his deliveries. Smiling faces who worked the undesirable overnight shifts at gas stations, hospitals, factories and of course, the donut shops. They all knew my dad by name, and I felt like royalty being introduced to new friends who clearly loved Sonny.

His final stop was always a bakery. His reward, he said, for a hard night’s work was a maple glazed donut. “Long johns,” he added, “but not the regular kind.”

Sonny’s favorites were steamy hot with a caramel-like glaze that smelled like pancakes and love. The lady at the bakery had decadent long johns ready, along with a glass of milk and a sprinkle donut for me. She called me ‘honey’ and had flour all over her body from nose to toes. Dad and I sat on the two stools in the tiny, brightly lit space and he pulled out a present for me.

“Go ahead,” he said. “But this is our secret. A special book from me to you.”

I peeled back the “wrapping paper” – a page from the Sunday funnies, of course – and saw a little red book, “Sonny the Lucky Bunny”. I laughed so hard I almost fell off my swivel stool.

“A bunny named Sonny!”

Even though the adventure played out more than fifty years ago, if I close my eyes, I remember my dad. My Sonny bunny…reading the short story to me as we sat at the bakery counter. A story all about a rabbit who was different because he took a chance and played with a Lonesome Lion.

Here’s an excerpt:

After frolicking with the lion…Sonny bent down to get a drink in Looking Glass Lake and the water was so clear that he could see himself in it. “My, I’m a handsome little rabbit!” thought Sonny as he looked at himself in the water.

He smoothed his fur, wiggled his nose, and straightened his floppy ears. But much to his surprise one ear continued to flop. Sonny straightened it, but again it flopped. “Ah, me,” thought Sonny, that must have happened with I fell down [playing with Lonesome Lion].

…if you ever happen to meet a rabbit with one floppy ear, a carrot in his back pocket and a four leaf clover on his left hind foot, you’ll know that he is Sonny the Bunny, a very lucky rabbit, who had a wonderful adventure in the Big Forest.

I’d lost track of the book for decades and unearthed it while sorting through mementos recently.

Has this happened to you? A moment where you recall an episode from your childhood with adult insight?

That’s how I felt when I found my Sonny book. It was a show-stopper, prompting me to sit…and sit a little more…wondering about my dad’s motivations. With the weight of the world on his shoulders as a papa and a provider and husband to Sue…who was a challenge…he must’ve recognized the importance of giving me something to hold on to.

So, I did my part, protecting the memory of a late-night adventure with my dad and the introduction to hard-working people who worked while I slept.

Take the risks; be kind to the lonesome lions in the world, even if you get a floppy ear in the process.

That’s my best guess at a summary statement about his motivation to take me along, gift me with a message-driven children’s book. He never mentioned the book directly over the thirty something years that followed, but I think he considered himself a man with an alter ego when he’d whisper in my ear, time and time again, “Sonny bunny loves you.”

Vicki 😊

P.S. Although my book cost a whopping 35 cents when I received in 1967, you can still get a decent used copy from Amazon for about ten dollars. I was surprised – and pleased – to learn this!

44 thoughts on “Dads, Daughters, Love”

  1. Oh, Vicki. There is so much to LOVE about this story. Bunnies, books, time with Sonny and, to top it off, maple glazed donuts! My favourite! I do admit that this “Protective gear, circa 1967.” made me laugh out loud. How did we ever survive?

    I had a similar experience when I found an airline ticket from 1973 tucked away in my night table drawer. It was my first ever plane flight when we emigrated from England to Canada. Holding that ticket took me back. And, like you, I remember every vivid detail of that day. I even wrote a Clutter Tale about it! 😂

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    1. Ah…Michelle. You’ve been riding along with me, my friend as I’ve followed your lead – bit by bit – sorting through a mountain of mementos. I love your inspirational Clutter Tales…and my “Sonny the Lucky Bunny” book might’ve been lost forever if I hadn’t opened that box. Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed reading! 🥰

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      1. This is why I’ve been after my husband to sort through the boxes in our basement that he brought from his parents’ house when we got married. I just know he’d find similar treasures. Then I could get him to write some Clutter Tales. Then again…maybe not! 😂

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  2. What a beautiful post, Vicki. I can picture in my mind that evening trip and the experience so vividly in my mind.

    It is a blessing when we go down these rabbit holes and recall childhood memories, because we can still recall the emotions felt as children but also view them through they eyes of an adult and realize the truths we didn’t quite understand as children.

    Your dad Sonny sounded like an amazing person and what a gift to have had his support despite the relentless stress he was facing.

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  3. Oh, I love this, Vicki! What a special memory–everything about it, from the nighttime escapade to the gift of Sonny the Bunny, and the yummy donuts and the shared laughter with your dad, sounds like a perfectly planned little occasion. Like Ab, I agree that it speaks highly to your father’s character that he took the time to show you love, even while (surely) overwhelmed with work, bills, a disabled child, and Sue. ❤️

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  5. I love, love, love this story, Vicki! From the chuckle about car safety in 1967 to the tender relationship you had with your dad, this captures the adventure so well. Love Sonny’s lessons on how to make meaningful connections! ❤ ❤ ❤

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  8. what a beautiful and heartfelt memory, vicki. your dad sounds like such a kind and giving man, with a heart that just continued to grow as big as needed. this sounds like just the right book at the right time and i’m glad that you’ve found it again. i’m a huge fan of children’s books and i collect them, they use few words to tell very powerful stories.

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    1. Thank you so much, Beth. I love your thought about his heart growing as big as needed. So good! And yes – gosh. You’re right! Children’s books are the best at conveying what matters most. 🥰❤️🥰

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  10. Yowza, this is a heartwarming post. The hard work that your dad did for your family, the night adventure that he took you on, which was a present in addition to the book. I loved reading about your adventure, with the details of the work truck down to the feast of donuts at the end. What a wonderful time, and a wonderful memory!

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  11. Oh goodness Vicki, I’m smiling with eyes that have welled up. What a beautiful and powerful story. How blessed you were to have the father you had, given all the other madness in your life. For that reason you’ll always remember that late night donut escape and the sweetest book. He’s still there reminding you of his love. I bet the memory is still infused with the scent of pancakes and love. I love that line! And this post. 💕

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  12. Love, love, love this post. Thank you for sharing your adventure with your loving dad Sonny. What an night you had. “A moment where you recall an episode from your childhood with adult insight?” This happened to me when my mom’s younger sister came to stay with us last Fall. I remembered a blond woman coming over to our house before I was kindergarten age. She had her three sons in tow. My mom sent my brother and me and the three boys out to play in the yard. Then the woman abruptly left. Next, she left town without her sons and divorced. The memory flashed as an adult that something with the meeting with my mom and her divorce were connected. I asked my Aunt about it and she confirmed my suspicious. The woman had an affair with my dad.

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    1. Oh my goodness, Elizabeth. What a powerful example of that ‘adult insight’ concept. Thank you so much for sharing and for your kind words. It’s amazing how little bits – glimpses from our childhood nest in our brains and come forward with clarity at unexpected times. Sending hugs to you! 🥰

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  13. Well, if that story didn’t make my day! Thank you for the memory. That book will be a treasure for life.
    When I was 4, I was terrified by thunderstorms. I remember my father taking me to the front porch in the middle of a storm, sitting me on his lap in the big rocking chair, and talking about the storm. I don’t remember what he said, but to this day I love being on a porch when there is a thunderstorm.

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      1. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I grew up in WV in the Ohio River valley, and those storms could be fierce. I remember being at summer camp, sleeping in a tent, and loving hearing those storms. 😍

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      1. The first? Really? I’m not sure but I think there was a copy at my grandmothers house. For whatever reason those cool illustrations are burned into my memory. Sadly, I didn’t remember the story as much🙃

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