for my father, embarrassingly late

someone said something about father's day the other day, and i had a moment of panic that i had forgotten all about it. because i do stuff like that sometimes. then i remembered that i had remembered to call, but i also realized that i let both father's day and my dad's birthday pass with no blog shout-out. and that simply will not do. so, here are some of my favorite memories and stories about my dear old dad.

i made a less than graceful entry into this world, and my mom was whisked away as soon as i was born for some, um, repairing. i was left in the cradle of my dad's arms, apparently forgotten by everyone but him. i don't remember it, of course, but we have long maintained that my dad and i really and permanently bonded in those first few minutes together. even today when i am sick, heartbroken, sad or scared, it's him i want.

my dad loves watching old music videos on the internet, like "love shack" by the B-52s. he also loves watching funny clips from "the daily show with jon stewart" and "the colbert report." sometimes he laughs so hard he cries.

my dad always has my back, and because of that i have rarely been afraid to do hard things. when i reported one of my junior high teachers the to administration for sexual harassment, dad was behind me all the way. he encouraged me to go to summer camps, fellowships and college far away. he never missed a week of writing me on my mission, and made sure i got all the care packages i needed. he is always my biggest fan and almost never criticizes me, even when i do really stupid things. instead, he helps me learn from my mistakes.

a couple years ago i had a really bad break-up and i was pretty depressed about it. my dad called almost every hour, on the hour, and recited that skit from "saturday night live": "you're good enough, you're smart enough, and gosh-darnit, people like you." if i didn't answer, he left a message.

i was sort of a mess when i first came home from my mission, and my dad was really understanding and supportive of my rocky transition. there were a couple mishaps, like when i was getting discouraged about finding a job and he said, "oh, frances, i had to send out at least a thousand resumes before i got my first job!" (i burst into tears) or the time he sat next to me on the couch, put his hand on my knee and said, "frances, i know this is a difficult transition and you are doing a great job and i just want you to take as much time as you need. but how much time do you think that will be?" (i burst into tears), but most of the time he was my biggest ally and support. one particularly bad day, i had just been rejected from another job and my mom was hosting a bridal shower at our house. one of the ladies from the ward saw me in the kitchen and said, "still here, frances? what, no job?" i couldn't decide if i wanted to cry (yet again) or punch her in the face, or both, but my dad quickly intervened and took me out to dinner and a movie. it was just what i needed.

my dad loves to ride motorcycles, and he has a lot of them. five harleys, to be exact. sometimes he shows up unexpectedly at my door after having ridden, literally, thousands of miles. he is a member of the "iron butt club." he pretty much exclusively wears harley-davidson t-shirts and, if they come from somewhere special, he buys two of them. one to wear and one for his "collection." he also had some of them made into a quilt. this summer, he is riding his motorcycle to the arctic circle. none of this seems strange to any of us anymore.

my dad is interested in me and my life, and this encourages me to be an interesting person and do interesting things. he never, ever, ever pressures me about dating or marriage; instead he calls to see what i think about the eliot spitzer scandal, how my bike training is going, what i am working on at my job. he keeps magazine articles he thinks i might be interested in. he gives me story leads. he stays involved in the best of ways. i like and want to tell him things.

and, finally, this. a while back i was reading a book called "reviving ophelia" (i think i have mentioned it before) and there was a chapter about how a girl's relationship with her father shapes a huge part of who she will be for the rest of her life. i think i have been hugely shaped and influenced by the fact that my dad never treated me like a girl, he always treated me like a person. there was no reason i shouldn't do well in school, move away from home, travel, play sports, pursue leadership opportunities. the words, "that's not very ladylike" or "why can't you act more like a girl?" never escaped his lips. but there was also no reason i shouldn't make quilts, wear skirts and have giggly sleepovers if i wanted to. he always let me choose, and he set an example that has helped me choose wisely. when he says he is proud of me i know he means it, and it is the greatest affirmation there is.

and so, on no particularly special day, i say thank you to my dad, and give him lots of love. better late than never, right?