Tuesday, June 8, 2010


Fathers' Day is just around the corner and with all the father-geared merchandise scattered about one can't help but think of their own papa. Mine is especially terrific.

When I was a kiddo he'd do with me what I'd hope every dad would do with their daughter; he'd teach me stuff--stuff that influences my habits and interests to this day. Frequently, he gave me words of the day to try. That ignited my interest in building vocabulary and chewing on especially delectable words. He also liked to see if he could teach me tricks, like spelling enthusiastic and Mississippi when I was a first-grader (bear in mind that this was in the olden days when kids didn't start kindergarten already familiar with Proust). I think he enjoyed experimenting with what this eldest little being of his might be capable of.

When I got older he'd often call me back into his room for "an interview." In these interviews, which could last up to a couple hours, we'd just chat. He'd get the skinny on his bitchy teenaged daughter. I loved those interviews. Not only was it a great exercise in adolescent narcissism, but Dad was always great at treating me like I was someone who had something valuable to contribute, not just a kid to be raised.* I still enjoy those interviews when I visit him back in the 'Tah. I hope that now our chats are more of a dialogue than a puerile self-centered monologue. Now, I like learning about what he's up to, and I think I might finally have enough life experience to understand some of it.

In addition to the above, my dadda is generous to a fault, creative, quirky, shrewd, smart, hilarious, kind, wise, unique, adorned with a sparkling mane of thick silver hair, and devilishly handsome. See:

Aunt Sue • Great Grandma Ruth • Jack, my dad

(Obviously I should have indicated above that he also has a fashion sense that all who know him admire and envy.)

Though the aged photo look is charming, I thought I'd see what would happen if I adjusted some color levels. And though I went rather heavy on the cyan (which is not pronounced kai-ann, people), if it's even possible, Aunt Sue looks even more darling when her dress is a lovely aqua hue.

I have above average skills when it comes to procrastinating, and that's why you have stumbled upon yet another Remarkable post. Doing this here means that I'm not doing that there. And I really should be doing that there.

* No, no, mother-of-mine, that isn't to say that your parenting tactics were less great. I just noticed that making me feel more like a grown-up was one of Dad's special skills. Here's what I've had to say about you.


Rabid said...

What kind of swoopy vehicle do we have going in the back? Swoopy!

Megan said...

'Tis a 'vette methinks.

Rabid said...

And a yeller one at that!

whitneyingram said...

Dad is grand. He is quite stylish. Ahead of the times. I remember these one brown dress shoes he bought that we all thought were ugly, but then a few years later, they were in style. Kind of still are.

You should have heard the concern in his voice yesterday when he called me about Van's episode. Very serious he was.

p.s. When are you going to write an eloquent write-up about Violet's arrival. I need it for her baby book and I need you to remind me of all the funny things that happened that day. Like when you bought new pillows at Wal-Mart and how I wanted to go home. Oh yeah and "Not to 50!"