Dad

I love my Dad... even if he did play "Butterfly Kisses" at church, leaving the three women in his life a pile of crumpled Kleenex and sobs... there is something so different and distinct about the way I feel toward my dad. I don't feel this way on Mother's Day or toward any other family member. The older I get the stronger it gets... the more I realize how connected I am to my Dad and how he, though maybe less vocal than Mom, has shaped me irreversibly. I love him. I'm so grateful for how close to great he's always been... and always tried to be. I respect and admire him. It's inarticulable really. He's my dad.



"Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later...
the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love, adopted a role called 'Being a Father' so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important: a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities of life."
-Tom Wolfe in "The Bonfire of the Vanities"