Dear Old Dad

For Father's Day this year, my dad has a request.  He would like me and each of my 3 siblings to write down our favorite dad story, seal it in an envelope and mail it to him.  He is confident that he will be able to accurately guess each of our stories.  It's a great idea and we have all had a wonderful time reminiscing about our favorite childhood memories.   

If I had one word to describe my dad, it would be good.  He's just a good guy.  The kind of guy you would be proud to know even if he weren't your father.   A funny, do anything for you, hard working man.  And I have always felt very lucky to call him my daddy.  With that said, I should also mention that my father is a character.  An outspoken guy born without the block in your brain that stops you from saying things you probably shouldn't say.  And he's quite loud.  Saying inappropriate things loudly leads to a lot of interesting (albeit embarrassing) childhood stories.  As you can imagine, I had quite a few memories to choose from.

So I select my memory and my mother begins trying to guess which one I've chosen.  "Is it the time Daddy was driving and the dog gave birth on your lap?"  What??  No, I don't remember that nor would it qualify for a favorite story.  That's just nasty.  She precedes to name 3 other equally disgusting events which I have thankfully been able to block from my head.  Turns out I also have a lot of repressed childhood memories.

So Daddy, I will tell you while it was very embarrassing to have you push the blue van down the hill (with me at the wheel) every day in order for it to start, that's not my favorite memory.

Oh, and speaking of the infamous blue van--the time we drove it to chase adolescent boys to their home because they mooned my sister?  Not the memory either.

Discovering that the AC/DC album you bought for the family wasn't a family album?  Aw, I remember it well.  This event went down in our family history as the day we learned AC/DC wasn't singing about basketball balls.  Fond childhood memory, but not the one I chose.

No, because as many funny childhood memories I have, my favorite memory wasn't funny.  It was the time you gave up your brand new gloves to a homeless man.  That frigid December night back when I was in grade school.  You never owned gloves when I was a kid, Lord knows all of us kids had them, but you never did.  So I'll never forget you walking out of the mall restroom without those gloves on your hands.  And I'll never forget the words you said when we asked you where they went.  "There was a homeless man in the bathroom running his hands under the hot water.  You should have seen how raw and red they were.  I gave him my gloves because he needed them more than I did."  Like I said, my dad is a good guy. 

I've learned a lot from my father over the years.   The typical stuff: riding a bike, driving a car, how to make an awesome ice cream punch.  But the most important things I learned: how to laugh at myself, how to tell an entertaining story, how to work hard, how to be a good person.  I learned those things just by watching him.

So I hope this qualifies as my memory in an envelope.  And I hope you don't mind that I shared it with everyone.  Happy Father's Day, Daddy!  I am proud to be your daughter.