This Father’s Day, I got to thinking about my own pops.
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The man, the myth, the legend is a mustachioed rock n roller who loves bourbon and grilling. I’m told we look alike, mustache aside.
We are similar people in a way that isn’t obvious at first. But it’s in the way we think, the way we view the world.
When we’re sitting on the couch, watching a movie, he’s usually strumming a guitar at the same time, totally absentminded, the same way someone else might flick a fidget spinner. That’s just what he does. And then I’ll tune in and realize he’s been picking his way through a Grateful Dead song like it’s nothing. It’s impressive.
My dad has been playing in bands since I was a kid. He loves the guitar and once tried to teach me a few chords. I, in all my teenage angst and rebellion, took up classical piano instead. But I love watching him on stage, rocking out, crushing a guitar solo.
Rock n roll is his first love, but he just enjoys playing the guitar, so he’s made it a mission to master different kinds of music, too. He’s currently on a jazz kick. He’s pretty much got country figured out.
Growing up, music was a fact of life in my house. He taught my brother how to play the bass. Once I decided on the piano, he expected me to work hard but enjoy it, too, and I did.
I soon knew enough about music theory to chat with him about chord progressions and songwriting, and it was like we were speaking our own secret language.
My dad takes care of things. He isn’t someone to sit back and wait. When something needs to be done, he will make it happen. I didn’t totally appreciate the value in that until I got older. Now, I try to emulate it.
My dad is about moderation. Everything is best in moderation. He doesn’t do excess. He doesn’t half-ass it, either. This advice is applicable to most things in life.
The man goes through phases, which my mom and I like to tease him about. My favorite was a Mexican cooking phase when I was probably 10. He served up quesadillas almost every night. Nowadays, as he masters the art of smoking meat, I’m equally impressed and more than happy to taste-test his work.
We butt heads sometimes. What father-and-eldest-daughter duo doesn't? I truly believe it’s because we’re built so similarly. I know how to press his buttons because they’re my same triggers.
He’s always there, though, when I need him. Even if it’s just to ask a question about taxes, he’s there. When I was growing up, he was there. That’s not something every kid can count on from their father. I’m very lucky.
This Father’s Day (and every day), I owe him a big thank-you. So, Dad, if you’re reading: thanks a ton. Thanks for things I can’t even articulate. Thanks for being there.
I hope you all had a fantastic Father’s Day weekend. And if Father’s Day isn’t for you and your family, that’s okay, too. These holidays can be complicated. But I hope for all of us a happy day, time with loved ones, and goodness all around.
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