Father's Day

I just got off the phone with my dad, who is driving to Boulder to see my sister.  I miss him terribly.  It is hard to be the one that is so far away, sometimes, and this is definitely one of those times.  I miss spending father's day with him. I am incredibly lucky in my dad.  Incredibly lucky.  And, though I only got to know one of my grandfathers, I was also profoundly lucky to have him in my life as well.

Our society is full of really really stupid information about what women are supposed to do and look like and want, and it is equally full of really really stupid information about what men are supposed to be.  I can never thank my father enough for quietly and consistently demonstrating that all that is so much bullshit.  My dad is strong not because he yells (I've seen him raise his voice maybe twice in my entire life) but because he listens.  Because he stands up for the things his family needs and does what is necessary to make sure we have those things, no matter what it takes.  I have never once, in my entire life, doubted that my dad was in my corner or wondered whether he'd support me.  Never once.

My dad has always, always, showed up.  He got up at 4am to drive me to swim practice.  He left work early to see me compete.  He stayed up late to pick me up after rehearsals and to very very patiently try to help me with my physics homework.  He listened to me tearfully complain about boys and all the other tiny crises of my teen years without ever making me feel silly or saying "I told you so".

My dad is the anchor of our family.  My mother and sister and I, among our many enviable qualities, share a tendency to be a bit high-strung, to fret, to overanalyze, to become overemotional. My dad balances us with an almost magical calming ability, and doesn't seem to mind being the eye of our little storm.  I can remember, when I was learning to drive, a time I stalled out the Volkswagen in the middle of a big intersection (Academy Boulevard and Union, maybe?) and I couldn't get it in gear again.  I was blocking traffic and people were honking and I was starting to cry and freak out, insisting that I couldn't do it.  But all that went away as my dad quietly and calmly walked me through the steps, reminded me that I did know what to do, starting with turning off the car, then pushing in the clutch, turning the ignition, putting it in first, letting the clutch out slowly and pushing the gas in slowly, as though we were all alone in a parking lot and I had all the time in the world.

And even now, I call him up sometimes when I am on the verge of tears and there's too much noise and I don't know what to do, and he quietly and calmly leads me through the basic steps, reminds me that I know what to do, and sends me on my way.

Thank you, daddy.