Dad! Dad! Dad! Today, it’s all about you.
My dad is the best. He shows up around here now and then (I mean, I tell you stuff about him, but also he reads — you know), because I have a lot of stories that make better sense if you know the dad. Anyway, he’s good. And I’ll tell you why. Or at least some of the why. Now. Ready? Okay.
My dad is funny. Snort funny. (Okay, well, he snorts. Usually in response to something ridiculous or ironic. My kids call this the Inappropriate Laugh, because it is possible that Husband and I each have a different laugh that comes out when possibly no laugh should.) He isn’t the kind who tells jokes, but the kind who finds them. In print, like The Far Side, which brought him decades of laughs (because you can go back and read them over and over, right?) and in various books of various intellectual levels. He loves Harry Potter, especially the wordplay and the names. He probably laughs at the Iliad and Sophocles. He gets stuff that only True Nerds get. And it makes him happy. Which makes me happy, too.
My dad is musical. He taught himself to play the guitar one summer while he was watering lawns for a summer job (that may be totally untrue, but that’s the story I remember, and hey, this is my blog). He sat under a tree and picked out gentle hippie music which may or may not have hidden drug references, but which also made, in the future, excellent bedtime songs and campfire music. He’s sung with cool choirs, including the one time when he sang with some Cincinnati chorus AND CAROL CHANNING. I know. I love me some Carol Channing. Oh, so much. He used to take us to see plays and he’d sit on the edge of his chair, soaking up the goodness.
My dad has a freakish memory. Mostly for people, but also for obscure literary references. I honestly think the guy remembers every person he’s ever met. He knew all my friends in High School, and still remembers them and asks after them. He cared about them. That’s where the memory comes from, I’ve decided. He meets someone and gets Invested. So he remembers. Cool, right?
My dad loves good food. He’s a great cook and baker and maker-upper and eater. We do have a good time together. Surprised? I thought not.
My dad is a linguist. Besides speaking carefully (which he does) he also knows loads of languages. Even some dead ones. And what’s cooler than speaking dead languages? I know. Nothing is.
My dad is a caretaker. He always took good care of us. And he took good care of my mom. And after she passed away, he’s taken very good care of my Mimi and her parents and pretty much everyone else who will let him. He’s a nurturing man — and I’m pretty sure that most of the world’s problems would diminish down to specks if we nurtured the characteristics that make a nurturing man. He’s a gatherer. He loves to have people around. He loves to organize dinners, lunches, breakfasts… any excuse to bring people together, especially if it involves food. (Where did I get that, again?)
My dad is a worshipper. He loves his Heavenly Father and Jesus. He loves going to church. He loves studying the scriptures. He loves serving and working and helping and living the gospel.
My dad is a reader. He loves books. He has a broad range of tastes which has broadened to include YA romantic comedy, since I started writing it.
My dad is a grower. He loves plants. Mostly ones you can eat, but also ones that look pretty or smell good. He loves the dirt. And compost. Lots of compost. (He also showers. Good thing.)
My dad is an awesome grandpa. He gives each of his 40+ grandkids so much personal attention that I’m pretty sure they all think they’re his favorite. He lives 4+ hours away from the nearest ones right now, but he’s still involved, knowing sports schedules and concert plans and plays and tests. He tutors his grandkids in French, he sings with them, he gets so excited when they tell him what they’ve been reading. He works with them. He listens to them. He cooks with them and eats with them. He’s been known to cry with them when the tears are called for, and he cheers and cheers for them.
And my dad cheers for me. It’s a pretty great thing to have someone who can find all the best things to say, at all the most needed moments. He thinks I’m great. And I think he’s great.
Happy birthday, Dad. I’m so glad there’s you.
(10) Comments for this blog
I loved this, Becca. It makes me want to call my dad and tell him how much I love him too.
I loved this, Becca. It makes me want to call my dad and tell him how much I love him too.
He is my second most favoritest dads as well. Love you Dad Brent.
He is my second most favoritest dads as well. Love you Dad Brent.
I love this tribute. It is so your dad and it makes me smile.
I love this tribute. It is so your dad and it makes me smile.
I learned a few decades ago that one of the most important days in a boy’s life is the one when he realizes that he can do something better than his dad.
Today, and over this 5th Gift week, I’ve accepted that I’ll never write fiction as well as my girl. I haven’t paid the price you’ve paid, either in reading or writing, and I don’t think I have the wit or charm you do.
But I do have useful things to write, like mission stories for Jess right now, and horizon-opening things for people who think they’re too old to launch into stuff they’ve either always wanted to do and suppressed, or have just discovered they have some passion for.
You inspire me, Bec, to lick the tireds and the scareds and to make some folks’ life better by what I write, not just by what I might be able to do for/with them face to face.
I’m also signing up here in front of everyone to shed 50 pounds.
I learned a few decades ago that one of the most important days in a boy’s life is the one when he realizes that he can do something better than his dad.
Today, and over this 5th Gift week, I’ve accepted that I’ll never write fiction as well as my girl. I haven’t paid the price you’ve paid, either in reading or writing, and I don’t think I have the wit or charm you do.
But I do have useful things to write, like mission stories for Jess right now, and horizon-opening things for people who think they’re too old to launch into stuff they’ve either always wanted to do and suppressed, or have just discovered they have some passion for.
You inspire me, Bec, to lick the tireds and the scareds and to make some folks’ life better by what I write, not just by what I might be able to do for/with them face to face.
I’m also signing up here in front of everyone to shed 50 pounds.
And BTW, on second read, I really did that lawn watering job. Only I got to practice in the empty house when the yard was being preserved. And that was TRUE COMMERCIAL FOLK music I learned, solidly grounded in the Kingston Trio.
And BTW, on second read, I really did that lawn watering job. Only I got to practice in the empty house when the yard was being preserved. And that was TRUE COMMERCIAL FOLK music I learned, solidly grounded in the Kingston Trio.