Dad

“It is admirable for a man to take his son fishing, but there is a special place in heaven for the father who takes his daughter shopping.”
– John Sinor

I’m not too sure about that. After all, MY Dad used to grope the mannequins at Sears when he took me shopping. He’d check for nipples, put unlit Camel straights in their mouths, oogle their panties. Anything to make me – and likely whatever friend I was with – turn into red faced, screetching, horrified teenagers who couldn’t wait to leave the mall. Or ditch Dad…

I was never a Daddy’s girl. Not that I remember, anyway. We didn’t have the type of relationship where I was a spoiled little princess who could do no wrong in Daddy’s eyes. I think, more than anything, I simply confused the poor man. :) I know he sometimes confused the hell outta me!

But, yanno…

There was always so much love.
And I could always count on him to come thru for me if I needed something.
Always.

My Dad worked so hard, for so long…
Worked to give us a good life, to make sure we never had to do the stuff he did as a child.

He busted his ass even when he was tired, even when he was in pain, even when he should have stopped working.

I don’t know if he realizes how much we all see that, how well we knew that he didn’t work for vacations to exotic places and new cars but for us.
For a roof over our heads even when it cost too much, for good, plentiful food on the table, for the insurance that made sure we stayed healthy.
Sometimes it probably seemed like he worked just to bail us out of debt as we got older.

We probably didn’t appreciate him enough, especially when we were young.
Do any kids/teens?

“When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years. ” ~Mark Twain, “Old Times on the Mississippi” Atlantic Monthly, 1874

Isn’t that the truth?

My dad has always been so damned smart. Odd how I knew it when I was young and only remembered it when I began to feel old.
Silly girl.

I try, sometimes, to remember things about my dad and wonder if he remembers them too.

Cowbells. I know he remembers that.
But I wonder if he remembers me helping him polish the Sportster.
Or buying me that damned peach sweater one Christmas. Peach and white striped and fuzzy. He picked it out himself and I hated it. But, by god, I wore it. I kept it for years, putting it on occasionally just because he’d boughten it for me himself.
I have a bracelet now that he picked out. Thank god, cuz I could finally toss out the sweater.
I wonder if he remembers all the funny things that I remember. Like him and Kevin microwaving and freezing a fly for about an hour one summer. Or the time Kevin did a wheelie with me on the back of his bike and Dad was, I think, about to kill him. Driving lessons. Omg. That was when I almost killed Dad.
I remember the family tree he drew for me in third grade. It was so beautiful. He could draw so well – even if he DID do best with nudes. :)
I remember sour cream and onion potato chips and sour soda in a little tavern up north. I remember pool lessons that never did take. I can’t shoot worth a damn.
Every year I laugh at Thanksgiving when we go bowling cuz I’ll never, ever forget to tuck the newspaper under my arm…

I wonder if he knows that, to this day, I really like dancing with him better than anyone else in the world…

I wonder if he remembers “Chicken I don’t know” or the stripe it rich cake he tried so hard to make for Paul’s tenth birthday?

I wonder if he realizes that when I went into labor with Colin he was the only person who was there. Mike couldn’t get out of work immediately and Mom was… er… unreachable and I’ve never seen the man in such a panic in my life.

So many memories and all of them remind me just how much love I have for this man.
We haven’t always gotten along. We don’t always understand each other.
But the love is there, strong and steady.

More than anything, though, I think about how good he is with my son. How deeply and beautifully they love each other.

My dad is a terrific father. All his kids agree with that. But he is an even better grandfather. I wonder if he realizes that? If he realizes that I smile every single time Colin calls him to talk about wrestling because it’s simply amazing to me that they have this relationship?

My Dad is a good man.
He’s gotten even better with age.
And as today is his birthday…
I felt the need to tell him that.

I love you, Dad.

Happy 61st!

“I love my father as the stars – he’s a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart. “~Adabella Radici