Father's Day

Father’s Day is less than a week away and my sister and I thought that we’d reflect a bit on all things Norman...that’s our dad.  

Dad’s are good for a lot of things...and by a lot of things, I mean they are good for teaching you how to throw a ball and for destroying the family bathroom.  We’d like to share a few things that our dad has taught us over the years.

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He was an engineer by trade and, for some reason, he thought that Hannah and I were able to follow his logic and reasoning.  By the time that we were around 10 years old, we both had learned how things worked.  We knew why the microwave could cook so efficiently - we knew how the car radio picked up signals - we knew how our Atari controller moved the men we saw on the screen.  The conversation would always start, “You see, there are these 4 little buttons and these buttons must correspond.....”  Forty-five minutes later, we knew it all.

I say that we “knew” these things...what I mean to say is that we knew how to nod and say, “Oh, I see” at the appropriate times.

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It could be almost any Friday night in the ‘80s and you could find our family eating pizza.  Inevitably, we would saw through the pizza pretty quickly with one solitary slice remaining on the table.

That’s when Norman, our beloved father would spring into action.  He would look at the lonely slice on the table and then look around at his loving family.  He would look his offspring in the eyes and then his glance would turn back to the slice.  Back at us then back to the slice again.

He would then pick up the slice of pizza and direct it towards his mouth, but would stop just inches from the goal line.  Then he would say to his loving and trusting family, “Oh...I’m sorry...did anyone else want the last slice?”  This is where his genius was most evident - this would be said with a slight quiver of the bottom lip and a frail look about himself.  

I wonder what the last slice of pizza tastes like?  Well played Norman, well played.

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Some dads blend in with the crowd...not our dad.  No matter where we were or how large the crowd - he was easy to find.  It wasn’t that he was freakishly tall or wore brightly colored clothing...it was...a sound.

You had to listen closely, but if you concentrated long enough you could hear him.  Our dad was a drummer in high school and the rhythm bug never quite left him.  You could hear the rat-a-tat-tat over the drone of any noise.  Keys and change in the pocket make for a very dramatic percussion set.  Rat-a-tat-tat-boom-siska-boom-rat-a-tat-tat-kapow-tisk-tat- drumroll and BIG Finish!  “Oh, Dad, there you are!”

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What do we have to say to our dad?

Thanks for teaching us about the 4 little buttons in the atari controller...and for teaching us so many things along the way.

Thanks for sparing us that last slice of pizza...carbs are a hidden killer.  Thanks for taking one for the family.

Thanks for not blending in with the crowd.  Anyone can have a dad that just blends in...we are so grateful that we have one that dances to the beat of a different drummer.

We love you and...you are the best!

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Take time this week to connect with your dad and say thanks.  If your dad isn’t eligible for one of the “#1 Dad” mugs - connect with someone who has encouraged you and supported you over the years.  

What will keep me up nights is knowing that my 5 year old daughter will one day write a Father’s Day blog.

Happy Father’s Day.

JJ