Sunday was Father’s Day and in celebrations of fathers, I’m sharing some memories of my dad.
I like cars. But I don’t like them enough to really understand them. My Dad is a mechanic, so I let him do all the worrying for me. When I lived at home, he took care of my car. I didn’t worry about a thing. Sure, occasionally I got yelled at because I had the radio too loud to hear any not-so-great sounds my car made, but my dad always heard them for me. And when I moved away, he wrote notes for my mechanics so they knew what to fix. Yeah, it was a little awkward explaining I had a note from my dad. But on the flip side, they always fixed the right thing. 😀
Like most people when I started out on my own, I couldn’t afford nice furniture. So my dad generously spent hours putting together my pressboard furniture. Of course, I was very, very helpful while he worked. I hovered over his shoulder and asked if he was done yet – see how helpful I can be!
My dad likes comedies. No sad stories or dramas for him. And definitely nothing scary. I’ve always enjoyed a good laugh, and my dad introduced me to the comedic brilliance of Charlie Chaplin, The Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy and Benny Hill. Now days we laugh at Jim Carrey fart jokes. You can’t say we ain’t got class.
My dad loves cats. He pretends not to, but I know he does. We’ve only ever had cats, never a dog. Sure, the cats were all barn cats, and he mumbled under his breath all the time about them, but we still had them. He even lets Emeril commandeer “his chair” when he visits. Now if that’s not cat love – I don’t know what is. (It’s entirely possible that Emeril remains in the chair because I’m belligerently staring at my dad, daring him to boot Emeril off his perch. It might not be worth the ensuing drama to him. See the paragraph above.)
Thanks for being a great dad and for all the great times we’ve had and yet to have.