It’s almost Father’s Day-the day you give thanks to that amazing man in your life whom your mother forced to say, “Congratulations” when you first got your period after he came to get you from the school nurse where you had a sweatshirt tied around your waist and you just wanted to die-truly die.
For the man that likes to tell the story how he used to have a really bad temper long ago. Like the time he lost a racket ball game and threw the racket over the court wall and then drove over it in the car. Or even the time when you were little and had a scooter shaped like an ice cream truck with plastic fake ice creams and you kept saying DAD DAD WANT SOME ICE CREAM DAD DAD WANT SOME HUH HUH DAD WANT SOME DAD DAD HUH HUH DAD until he finally snapped and picked up the ice cream truck and hurled it into the bushes in the back yard.
To the man who gets a hearty laugh each year when he pulls out his favorite Christmas ornament you made him at a young age-a little red construction paper cut out with a ship drawn on it and the message, “FOF U DAD” because you crossed the R making it look like an F instead.
To the man who's fate was to have two daughters and no sons. Two daughters that he attempted to teach sports to like football by setting up folding chairs in the living room and explaining how one player runs from this chair to that chair and it’s called a touchdown and when he asked if you had any questions you said, “Yeah… um… do they use real chairs?”
To the main who surprisingly didn’t suffer from a heart attack both times when you A.) Threw your life sized child doll from the attic window as he was mowing the lawn because you thought it would be ‘funny’ if he thought it was your little sister falling from the roof or B.) The time you buried this very same doll in a pile of leaves with only a leg, arm and tuft of hair sticking out right where he parks his car so that when he pulled the car into the space you ran out of the house screaming and fake crying and pointing until he thought he'd run over something unknowingly-like-your little sister. Ha. Funny.
To the man who invented pranks. Who put a ‘can of nuts’ with a snake that pops out in your mother’s stocking. Who gave your sister a hand buzzer and a whoopie cushion for her birthday. To the man who gave you some quote, ‘quality stink bombs’ once that looked like a little glass crack vile of urine and told you the best way to use them was to smash them over the school radiator in the back of the classroom and wait for the heat to turn on. To the same man who hours later had to admit to your principal who kept you in detention that he um…actually gave you the idea.
To the only father on earth who is so cool his teenager daughter wanted to steal clothes from him-the vintage pink bowling shirt with bonsai trees embroidered on it and the black low top Chuck Taylors that you would stuff tissue paper in the front of so they could fit.
To the man that loves music and taught you to love music. To the man who has been known to trap you in his car parked outside the house with the doors locked, the volume close to ten, having you listen to a long-winded solo by some obscure blues artist while your mother peered through the curtains wondering what on earth you both were doing out there.
To the man that appears more nervous about your upcoming wedding (in a good way) than you do. To the man that writes the following email,
“I’m thinking I’ll give a PowerPoint presentation for my wedding speech if that’s ok with you” (ha ha) followed by “Unless you have other plans, I would like very much to come and get you on your wedding day and bring you to the ceremony. Love, Dad”
No Dad I have not made 'other plans'.
I love you.
Happy Father’s Day!