That’s my dad, at age thirteen or fourteen.  There’s another picture of him standing like this, but hiding his eyes.  It cracks me up every time–to think, even dad had one of those phases when posing for pictures was torture.  This is  pretty much what I would look like with no hair.

So now I’m 26, and my father is 56, which means at the age of thirty, he was cradling a newborn while keeping one eye on my sister, aka the three year old.  I still feel like a little kid when I get in my dad’s truck and he switches it to the oldies station.  I grew up in Ohio listening to 103.5, and 98% of the time I can ask my dad “who sings this one?” and get a prompt answer.  Now he’s a grandfather.  Now we ride back to the house on Wehr Road once a month when he picks me up at the Greyhound station.  We still look alike.  There’s a line in the Popeye movie that we still quote to one another.  In the scene where Popeye’s father is not convinced that his son is indeed his son, Popeye says, “We’ve got the same squinty eye!”  His father responds with, “What squinty eye?!”  Within five minutes of reuniting, my dad will throw the line to me and on cue, I answer. 

 It doesn’t get any easier..living five hours from him and my sister.  My dad wasn’t just my dad.  He’s been my mom, my best friend, my #1 fan in the stands at all soccer games and track meets.  We took a spinning class together a couple months ago, and midway through he reached over to wipe his sweat on my arm.  I get the goofy from him.  On Mother’s Day, I dial his number first.  When I feel like I can’t handle the simple mundane tasks of getting through the week, I know I can call him.  I know that he’ll listen.  I know that he’ll mention a moment in his life when he felt the same way.  I know it will pass, but to hear him say it me makes it much more believeable.   

 Sunday is Father’s Day and of course there will be a phone call coming his way.  I won’t be home to say it in person but I know he understands.  He has always been a champ when it comes to letting me go, even if he doesn’t want to.   Even if it’s hard to watch, hard to understand.  It must be crazy–to know how fucked up this world and things can be but still you have to let the little ones figure it out for themselves. 

 I could not have lived this long without his presence, support, love, and respect.  I’m the daughter of a southpaw. I’m the daughter of a man who can ride the bike all day.  I’m the daughter of the guy with the same squinty eye.  I’m the daughter of the most amazing person I’ve ever, ever known.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 13th, 2007 at 3:41 pm and is filed under family, photo. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.