via snippet & ink
Cue in the Chevy Trucks music, people, it’s time to pay homage to dad.
Mine, in particular, is not only MY hero, but as a firefighter is the hero of many others and probably, himself. Just kidding, dad, had to say it! My dad saves the day whether you’re choking on canned pineapple and need the Heimlich, or simply need a paper towel while out of the house – he’s got you covered. Or, of course, if your house is on fire or you’re in labor.
I’m sure if you’ve met me in the last few years, and met my dad as well, that you’ve heard the story about how spectacular I was at my preschool admissions interview, or that as kids, my dad thought we were “simply mahhhhhhhhhvelous.” He’s always been generous with his pride for us (even at the frequent low points of arrest warrants, school expulsions and holes in various walls around the house), and as a result gave us the world our entire lives.
If you make sure to turn off the light when you leave the room, don’t engage in general “hawse-shit” and don’t cut a bagel in the “dangerous” way (palming the bagel and slicing toward hand, he HATES that and will yell), he won’t get pissed at you, and he’ll be sure to make you any food you like, drive you anywhere, laugh excessively at your jokes and tell you you look beautiful.
When I first moved to NYC as a broke little wannabe, my dad would send huge Whole Foods gift cards, much to my sartorial dismay, because while spending $100 on a pair of jeans was incomprehensible to him (and that was the sale price!), you could spend thousands on food, no problem. I couldn’t comprehend a man who’d bragged about having shoes that were older than I was, but who would buy out the entire grocery store in one fell swoop.
Again, much to my chagrin, he never settled for the cheap stuff growing up. I wanted the Snoopy three-minute ice cream maker, and I unwrap a gray, state-of-the-art “real” ice cream maker instead. Bollocks. No EZ Bake oven for me, no sir. Hated it then, glad I learned that lesson now.
When my dad courageously returned to school a few years ago to finally finish up his degree (think a few pesky kids got in the way of that one), instead of getting a new backpack, he insisted on carrying my sister’s perfectly good purple LL Bean backpack with COURTNEY embroidered on the back. When we complained (as adults, I might add) that that was embarrassing, he covered the name in duct tape.
Yup, that’s my dad. Friend him on Facebook, he’ll be thrilled.
(he’s SO going to cry when he reads this, I just know it – he’s a ham!!!)