Today is Father's Day in Canada, and as far as I can tell they don't celebrate that day here in Switzerland. What's up with that, CH? Dad's are important too.
Here is an assorted list of why my dad is ultra rad.
(Though, the lame rhyming is all on me. Don't blame my rad dad for that bad.)
1. He will beat your dad at golf. Guaranteed. If your dad decides to bet your allowance money on his game of golf with my dad, you won't have an allowance that week. When my dad was a young(er) pup, he could have pursued a career as a pro golfer. Luckily for my sisters and I, he decided to become a policeman instead because that's how he met my mom.
(Which makes it sound like mom totally got arrested. Not by my dad...anyhow...or ever...or did she??)
2. My dad laughs at the irony of situations instead of punching walls. My dad grew up in Victoria, so for anyone not geographically in the know that means he grew up a stone's throw away from the ocean in a lush and gorgeous environment. Before heading off to Regina to commence his police training, he did a roadtrip through BC and passed through a dusty little one horse town called Cache Creek. "Kill me if I ever live somewhere like this!" My dad laughed to his friends. Upon completing his police training, when he was open to the possibility of being posted anywhere in all of Canada, Dad ended up being transferred to Cache Creek. It's all cool though because that's where he met mom, the rodeo princess royalty of that one horse town.
3. My dad will pull off the road during a roadtrip along the Oregon Coast so his lovesick young teenage daughter can find a public library so she can send an email to the boy back home she has a crush on. My mom was annoyed at the request, my sisters mocked me ruthlessly, and my dad just kept quietly driving because he was scouting out the library for me. Crushes went away, disappearing into the wind like dandelion seeds--numerous but fleeting--but Dad's silent support is the stem I still clutch.
(Though, I'm not sure if you guessed this Dad, but Dan is sort of around now. But you probably already guessed that when you walked me up the aisle.)
4. My dad picks the best pets. After our best pal Bess had to be put down after having lived the deserved life of a queen for ten years with our little family, my sisters and I were devastated. For months it felt like we lived in an empty house. Then my parents started to cautiously mention the idea of getting another dog. One day after school we came home and Dad was holding a squirming, happy, black puppy who was so full of life she couldn't stay still. That was Kelly. Mom likes to laugh about how she and Dad went to visit a farmer, who's spaniel had a litter of pups with a lab, just to look. Mom says she was holding a perfect quiet little pup in her arms who was sleeping soundly, while Dad studied the other joyful little pups. But in the corner of the yard was one pup off alone. A pup who was determinedly trying to dig a hole...in plywood.
"We'll take that one!" Dad declared.
Kelly was with us for fifteen years, and for fifteen years she was playful, energetic, frustrating, loving, protective, and perfect. Thanks Dad.
5. Whenever he could, my dad watched Saturday morning cartoons with my sister's and I, followed by some WWF wrestling. After our shows, we'd gang up on my dad and try to wrestle with him, but it always ended up in hysterical laughing because Dad would tickle us until we were laughing so hard we would gasp, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe! Help! Ais! Meg! Caitie! Help! I can't breathe!" But we couldn't help each other because we were all being defeated by the tickle monster.
6. My dad is funnier than your dad. He was our Jerry Seinfeld. I remember the first time ever going into a Walmart, we were in the States because the big W hadn't made it to Canada yet. As the automatic doors swung open, my family of five trooped in and then we all stopped short as we looked at all the people paying. If you've never seen the People of Walmart website you best be clicking on that link, because that is what we were seriously confronted with as we entered that grand establishment. Every single cashier station had a Person of Walmart customer. Specifically I recall the man who was dressed from head to toe in Daffy Duck paraphernalia, complete with a thin and greasy pony tail that had been saved even though the rest of his hair was buzzed. Also, there was the woman who was wearing old pink bedroom slippers, SHORT-shorts y'all, and a white saggy bra. Nothing else. As my eyes bugged out of my head, I heard Dad whistle under his breath, "Phew, look at all the martians." Hahaha! I'm sorry, but that was an entirely accurate description and if you spend time browsing the above website and don't agree, then your funny bone is broken.
7. My dad makes beef jerky. Nuff said. Am I right or am I right?!
8. I used to be obsessed with Sesame Snaps when I was a wee child. Dad once took me into the candy store and told me I could have anything I wanted. Any sweet. I picked a package of Sesame Snaps. A bar of seeds, if you will. Dad must have looked at this choice of treat and caught a glimpse of the responsible and Nerdus Nolifeus teenager his young daughter would become, then tried to encourage that behaviour, because for years he would sometimes surprise me (and my sisters too) with Sesame Snaps.
9. My dad will put himself in peril to accommodate his five year old's insistence that Santa WAS on the roof last night. It is a snowy, icy, freezing Christmas morning. Me and little Meghan are standing outside in our snow boots, Mom is in her pajamas holding baby Aislinn, and Dad is climbing a really tall ladder onto the roof. He stops on the last rung and turns his head left and right.
"I can see the sled tracks, girls! You're right! Santa was definitely here!"
Meghan and I scream in excitement.
10. My dad can hug the hurt away. In my early twenties I was in a car accident. My car was a write-off but I was physically fine. That's all the matters, I know. But emotionally I was devastated by the accident. My first car that I'd saved for so long to buy, declared scrap metal. The smell of an accident scene. The feeling of being thrown against your seat. The air-bag punching you in the face. Glass shattering. People screaming. The scary seconds of stillness when everything stops moving, but people don't know how to help yet. I couldn't forget any of that. For a long time. But Dad would crush me in his arms while I cried, and it made me feel better. A hug that feels safer than a seatbelt.
Love you so much, Dad.
See you on Tuesday.