My Father The Hero
Things I think about nearly every day when I think of my dad. Life definitely wasn't always a bowl of cheeries when we were together. He could be mean and he could be irrational sometimes and it took a long struggle until we even came close to seeing eye to eye... but today I can say my dad was the best. He tried to be a great father and often he would call me to see how he was doing at it, or to apologize to me for what he believed to be a "failing" on his part. "They" say that it gets easier to deal with death as time goes by, but it'll be five years coming up, and I miss him more and more.
(By the way, some of the more "traditional" mom things were taken on by my dad because he stayed at home with me, while my mom worked--so that's why if you end up wondering)
My favorite- He’d sing, “You are so beautiful to me" whenever I was down, even over the phone when I was in college and I was whining about someone not liking me, or me not liking something about myself.
Before I could drive, he’d take me and a car full of my screeching girlfriends wherever we wanted to go on a minute’s notice.
When I was stranded in Virginia (about six states away from where he was), he drove down while he had to flu to switch cars with me so that I could make it to my exam the very next day.
He grew pink roses that he knew I liked and would cut them in the summer and put them in front of my place at the breakfast table in the morning when I was growing up. He grew different ones that my mom liked for her (I know I was spoiled).
He’d turn on the dryer and heat up towels in the morning (because he woke up before the roosters) so that everyone in the family had a warm towel when they got out of the shower.
He didn't believe in letting the sun set on a fight (consequently, fights continued long into the night).
Even though I got myself into quite a jam when I was younger, he stood by my side in support-and eventually came to laugh at the whole predicament.
He came to pick me up from a party when I was too drunk to drive (and probably too old to call Daddy) and put up with me, even when I couldn't even tell him where the party was and he exasperatedly spoke with another party goer to get directions.
He loved receiving only homemade cards and gifts and instilled in me the idea that a little extra effort gets noticed by loved ones.
He sang and hummed from the minute he woke up to the minute he went to bed, and I rarely heard him complain (except for the parts when he was screaming at me--but it was all well deserved).
He drove my mom to work every day just so they could "have some quiet time alone together."
He always stole the ears off of my chocolate Easter Bunnies (which was always a "Chopper Hopper because my dad rode a Harley).
He asked me when I was four how I felt about brothers and sisters and when I told him that I didn't want to share him...he took me at my word (thank goodness!).
He taught me about natural beauty and shook his head when I attempted at the age of thirteen to sport blue eyeshadow and enough black eyeliner that I looked like a hooker/linebacker with grease paint.
He took me to buy my first bra, and wasn't weirded out by it.
He never gave false compliments, and was never shy to tell you how you could fix something...it may have been blunt but it was better than going out in "that shirt" if my dad (of all people) thought it was horrible. The assessment at home saved me from a world of redicule out in the public eye.
He didn't care what other people thought of him. He wore sweatpants and stained shirts every day of his life. Not because he was a slob, but because it was practical for him to do so.
He looked like Robert Deniro, and was equally as intimidating.
He let me shave a mohawk into his hair before he went bald (and was planning on shaving it all anyway instead of just holding onto the few folicles that were left).
He made me see the value in exercise. As a teenager, I may not have loved the weekly schedule that he set up for me "so that I wasn't bored over the summer" but it kept me in shape and it kept me loving my workouts now.
He was a strong proponent of the truth. I lied a lot. We got into a lot of fights because of it, but he was right. You just shouldn't lie. I didn't learn this lesson until he took me to a place that he told me was where the "Liar's School Bus" came to pick up kids who lie. I was told that I would board there, and maybe they'd come visit me once a month. He drove out of sight...came back no more than thirty seconds later and asked me how it felt to be lied to. Then he made me mashed potatoes for dinner (my favorite food)...oh and I was like five or six, it really doesn't work past that age.
He forced me to overcome my shyness and my fear of using the telephone. It was tough love, but it had to be done. (and look where it got him today? Not shy anymore, Pops!)
His daily mantra when some boy broke my heart and I was crying on his shoulder was, "You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, but you don't need a prince to be happy..."
When my friend Tash and I were growing up we moaned and cried after school dances about being flat and he taught us a very important lesson (which sounds pervy but in context it was relieving) that "More than a mouthful's a waste," and then quipped, "It goes both way ladies."
On my 16th birthday he bought me a Playgirl because he knew I was a total innocent and didn't "want me to be shocked about the male form."
That same birthday he made me purchase my first box of condoms so that I would see that there was no shame in it. (I gave the same box back to him on his birthday a few years later unopened...and he was quite pleased by it).
He was open and honest about sex. He didn't want me ever to be embarassed to talk with him and my mom about it. In fact, I called him when I lost my virginity. Sure, he lost his composure for a moment or two but then came back full force with the question, "So did you enjoy yourself?"
He took me out to dinner when I "physically" became a woman to show me that "guys shouldn't be weirded out by periods."
He helped me create the most gruesome Halloween costumes every year and taught me you can be a kid at any age (I still trick or treat)...no one would ever guess that I was a girl underneath all the blood and gore.
When I had the chicken pox at the age of five, he flapped his arms and brocked around, convincing me that I was going to turn into a chicken due to my illness. I was scared shitless.
(By the way, some of the more "traditional" mom things were taken on by my dad because he stayed at home with me, while my mom worked--so that's why if you end up wondering)
My favorite- He’d sing, “You are so beautiful to me" whenever I was down, even over the phone when I was in college and I was whining about someone not liking me, or me not liking something about myself.
Before I could drive, he’d take me and a car full of my screeching girlfriends wherever we wanted to go on a minute’s notice.
When I was stranded in Virginia (about six states away from where he was), he drove down while he had to flu to switch cars with me so that I could make it to my exam the very next day.
He grew pink roses that he knew I liked and would cut them in the summer and put them in front of my place at the breakfast table in the morning when I was growing up. He grew different ones that my mom liked for her (I know I was spoiled).
He’d turn on the dryer and heat up towels in the morning (because he woke up before the roosters) so that everyone in the family had a warm towel when they got out of the shower.
He didn't believe in letting the sun set on a fight (consequently, fights continued long into the night).
Even though I got myself into quite a jam when I was younger, he stood by my side in support-and eventually came to laugh at the whole predicament.
He came to pick me up from a party when I was too drunk to drive (and probably too old to call Daddy) and put up with me, even when I couldn't even tell him where the party was and he exasperatedly spoke with another party goer to get directions.
He loved receiving only homemade cards and gifts and instilled in me the idea that a little extra effort gets noticed by loved ones.
He sang and hummed from the minute he woke up to the minute he went to bed, and I rarely heard him complain (except for the parts when he was screaming at me--but it was all well deserved).
He drove my mom to work every day just so they could "have some quiet time alone together."
He always stole the ears off of my chocolate Easter Bunnies (which was always a "Chopper Hopper because my dad rode a Harley).
He asked me when I was four how I felt about brothers and sisters and when I told him that I didn't want to share him...he took me at my word (thank goodness!).
He taught me about natural beauty and shook his head when I attempted at the age of thirteen to sport blue eyeshadow and enough black eyeliner that I looked like a hooker/linebacker with grease paint.
He took me to buy my first bra, and wasn't weirded out by it.
He never gave false compliments, and was never shy to tell you how you could fix something...it may have been blunt but it was better than going out in "that shirt" if my dad (of all people) thought it was horrible. The assessment at home saved me from a world of redicule out in the public eye.
He didn't care what other people thought of him. He wore sweatpants and stained shirts every day of his life. Not because he was a slob, but because it was practical for him to do so.
He looked like Robert Deniro, and was equally as intimidating.
He let me shave a mohawk into his hair before he went bald (and was planning on shaving it all anyway instead of just holding onto the few folicles that were left).
He made me see the value in exercise. As a teenager, I may not have loved the weekly schedule that he set up for me "so that I wasn't bored over the summer" but it kept me in shape and it kept me loving my workouts now.
He was a strong proponent of the truth. I lied a lot. We got into a lot of fights because of it, but he was right. You just shouldn't lie. I didn't learn this lesson until he took me to a place that he told me was where the "Liar's School Bus" came to pick up kids who lie. I was told that I would board there, and maybe they'd come visit me once a month. He drove out of sight...came back no more than thirty seconds later and asked me how it felt to be lied to. Then he made me mashed potatoes for dinner (my favorite food)...oh and I was like five or six, it really doesn't work past that age.
He forced me to overcome my shyness and my fear of using the telephone. It was tough love, but it had to be done. (and look where it got him today? Not shy anymore, Pops!)
His daily mantra when some boy broke my heart and I was crying on his shoulder was, "You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, but you don't need a prince to be happy..."
When my friend Tash and I were growing up we moaned and cried after school dances about being flat and he taught us a very important lesson (which sounds pervy but in context it was relieving) that "More than a mouthful's a waste," and then quipped, "It goes both way ladies."
On my 16th birthday he bought me a Playgirl because he knew I was a total innocent and didn't "want me to be shocked about the male form."
That same birthday he made me purchase my first box of condoms so that I would see that there was no shame in it. (I gave the same box back to him on his birthday a few years later unopened...and he was quite pleased by it).
He was open and honest about sex. He didn't want me ever to be embarassed to talk with him and my mom about it. In fact, I called him when I lost my virginity. Sure, he lost his composure for a moment or two but then came back full force with the question, "So did you enjoy yourself?"
He took me out to dinner when I "physically" became a woman to show me that "guys shouldn't be weirded out by periods."
He helped me create the most gruesome Halloween costumes every year and taught me you can be a kid at any age (I still trick or treat)...no one would ever guess that I was a girl underneath all the blood and gore.
When I had the chicken pox at the age of five, he flapped his arms and brocked around, convincing me that I was going to turn into a chicken due to my illness. I was scared shitless.
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