Family Matters: Dear Dad

I usually spend this time each week going over what’s been happening with my girls and my wife. Since today is my dad’s 50th birthday, I figured I should write something for him. He has no computer so he won’t get to read this, but perhaps someday he will.

Dear Dad

Dad. Father. Daddy. Ron. You’ve been known by many different names, some supplied by your offspring, others not. I even have a few on file from your collection of ex-wives. But we won’t dwell into that now.

You divorced mom in the mid 1980’s. I want to say 1985, but I can’t be sure. All I know is, most of the time you weren’t home, and at some point that became official.

There is a strange conundrum in that as a child I greatly respected my father more than my mother because of that seperation. Today I regard them both equally, and know better, but back then it was because I rarely saw my father. The time with him was special. Limited. On Your Best Behavior is how kids act when visitors are over, and I always applied that rule when I saw my father. My mother pointed this out to me a few years ago, and I now know why: I didn’t really know you, and so I tried to spin an image of the Good Son.

Not to say you weren’t around week in and week out, but over the years I got to know you only in fits and starts, and that doesn’t really heed a great relationship.

I spent some time today trying to think of my clearest memory of you as I was growing up. But I don’t really have one. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing, but in some people’s eyes I’m sure it is. In my mind are flashes of experiences.

Putting together a jigsaw puzzle and framing it Flash
You bringing home a TV for my room, something I never thought would happen Flash
Watching you play softball with the company team Flash
Riding along with you in numerous trips to the wrecked car sales, usually getting out of school to do so Flash
Trying my best to find a strangely named wrench in your garage Flash
Attempting to wax your car as the sun went down, only to run out of light halfway and leaving it for you to find Flash

But no matter what I do or don’t remember, you are my dad. And I love you. And no matter how insipid or downtrodden this post sounds, I always will and I’ll always respect you. I wanted to know you better as a kid, as any kid would of his/her father. I don’t know your favorite food, color, or band, I don’t know what life was like growing up, I don’t know how parenting has been for you, I don’t know I don’t know. There are so many I don’t know’s I could write a book of questions and never find the time to answer them.

We’re both too busy to visit on a regular basis, and with irregular visitation comes irregular knowledge of each other. But I will say this: Whenever I was in need, you were there. You towed cars, fixed tires, paid bills, and provided me with transportation (including my first car, Old Smoothy) whenever I needed it. You’ve also always been there at all the big events in my life. Graduations, births, the whole bit. Say what you want about deadbeat dads, but I assure you are not among them.

It’s funny to me how hard you try and encapsulate a person or a parent in a letter. I’m posting this for all to see, and so what I focus on is important. But just as meeting someone once doesn’t reveal their true character, neither does a few hundred words on your behalf. I want the world to know how cool and interesting and special you are, but there isn’t enough space for that. There isn’t enough time for that. And time is the most precious thing, and time is what you’ve achieved today.

Landmarks highlight the special area around them. Time marks the growth of a person. With 50 years behind you, I can only wish you the best on your next 50. And I simply hope me and my family are featured more prominently on the latter-half of your own personal century.

I love you dad.

– E

Etc

Okay, as always, here comes the interesting links of the week. You’ll like this stuff or your money back.

– Jesse's Bookmarklets Site – Know what a Bookmarklet is? It’s a button beneath your browser address bar that does interesting things when you click it, such as automatically open a Gmail window or show the passwords in the forms on the current page. Try em out—they’re handy.

– My Son Peter – …is fucking creepy. I quote: “My son Peter has always loved to play hide and seek. In fact, he loves it so much that he will wake me up in the middle of the night to play. The only problem is that Peter has been dead for eight years.” I think it’s fake, personally.

– Rubik's Cube Solution – Want to know the quickest and easiest way to be the cube?

– Colorblender – You know, I have a thing for great color schemes. And this site is absolutely, completely, ridiculously cool. Can you say “Slider Controls Are Awesome”? I knew ya could.

Thanks for reading. See ya tomorrow.

I like you best
When you’re down with the rest of us