I forgot my Dad’s birthday yesterday. Maybe I should start consulting my calendar on weekends again. Or plan accordingly when something important doesn’t fall on a weekday.
In any case, here are 10 reasons I love my Dad. Yup, I said love. But I say that in a man-to-man sort of way. If that makes any sense. Which it doesn’t. So just read on.
- There was never any doubt in my mind that my Dad loves my Mother. It must be a scary thing not knowing if the people that created you still love each other (or even did). Fortunately for me, the thought never crossed my mind. My aging father still looks at my aging mother with a twinkle in his eye. He is kind to her. He is patient with her. He supports her. And anyone that does that for my Mother is tops in my book.
- He never pretended to have all the answers. The problem with most PHD academics like my Dad is they think they have all the answers. The often feel superior to others. And only two of them have uttered the words, “I don’t know.” My dad is one of them. And when coupled with his humility, that makes him the smartest person I know. Consequently, (next to my wife) I respect his opinion above all else. No contest.
- He worries about me. My dad is a worry wart. He even worries about things he knows he cannot control. Like if the sun will come up tomorrow. Job creation. Or if that loan will be repaid. In response, it’s been said that my Dad is lacking in faith. I know I’ve voiced my fair share of, “Everything’s going to be okay, Dad.” But hey, at least someone’s doing the worrying for me. Plus, it’s nice to know I’ll always have backup.
- He often slips me a Twenty. I’m 31. I can take of myself. And yet my Father still pushes a $20 on me every time he visits. “Take the money,” he says. It’s funny if you think about it: A sixty year old giving money to a man child over 30. But I’ll still take it, much like Jerry accepting the upside-down pen.
- He never let me beat him in basketball. My dad was a baller. He used to drop upwards of 50 points a game in the late ’60s. He once dropped over 40 in a single half, according to multiple sources. (That’s a lot, even for amateurs.) Consequently, he was always suppose to put the spank on me while I was learning to play. He always did. I had to fight for every point and still lost. But I learned how to fight. And I learned at an early age that nothing in life is free. Except for the occasional Twenty from your dad.
- He is funny. Listen to these self-described “personal interests” listed on his faculty page: “I am the world record holder and sand surfing champion of the St.Anthony, Idaho Sand Dunes as well as the skateboard (sidewalk surfing) champion of the world. I have held these titles since the early 1960’s but have never been recognized appropriately–possibly because I’m the only one who knows it. I recently declared myself the backwards walking champion of the universe and no one has yet to dispute it. Most of my interests revolve around athletics/sports plus trying to figure out what is going on with my children and grandkids. I used to run (usually mistaken for a cheetah or a corvette) and play basketball and racquetball, but my running has morphed into what many call waddling (I assume that to be a complement, but then I don’t hear so well either).” Who is this guy??!! That’s my Dad.
- He gave me brothers and sisters. NOTE: If you’re stingy with your resources, DO NOT have kids. They cost money. They make it virtually impossible to enjoy “me” time. And they’ll poop on your carpet, smudge up your TV, and cut into sleep time. But man are they rewarding, especially in numbers. I might not have realized that if my Father put the kibosh on my mom’s dream of having kids. Fortunately he didn’t. And I have cool siblings to prove it.
- He once drove over 600 miles just to take me home. When I was five, my Dad took my brother and I to Pike’s Peak. Long story short, I got homesick. Started throwing up. And pleaded with him to take me back to momma. He obliged, turned the car around (mid trip mind you), and drove 600+ miles back to Oklahoma. Then he did it all again, with my sister in my place, while my pansy-self hunkered down at home. That’s awesome.
- He is genuine. I got my boldness from my Mom. But I learned sincerity from my Father. The man simply does not say anything without meaning it. He doesn’t dilute adjectives. And he’ll make you feel like a million bucks when he judiciously decides to use one. Which is why he is so well liked.
- He’s now second-in-command at a major university. As a testament to his hard work, my Dad landed a big promotion over the summer. Although it’s helping to oversee a satellite branch of Texas A&M, he’s still a BFD (big frickin’ deal) in my eyes. Congratulations, Dad. I love you. In a man-to-man sort of way. Or something like that.