To my dad, the writer, dreamer and loser of all things…
My dad is the absolute greatest father ever. He’s a writer, and everything he does is over the top, imaginative and crazy… which makes it okay that my mom has to assemble all the furniture we ever buy and program the tv remote.
I think one of the funniest moments I remember with me and my dad would have to be from an insanely long car trip, me made with my 2 month old brother, from California palm trees to Kansas praries. If you have ever made this trip you know two things are inevitable, 1) It is flat after Colorado, a Tree is your new mountain and 2) there will be a ton of signs directing you to wonders of the world such as 6 legged lambs, and the world’s biggest rocking chair.
One of the signs we saw about 500 miles away, and every 50 or 25 miles we saw another sign… THE THING 450 miles… 300 miles…. 150 miles… By the time we got there we had to know what this incredibley amazing Thing was, it just said the thing, no details… so as we pulled up to the gas station and bought our dollar tickets from the cashier we were totally in the dark.
So we followed the sidewalk around the back of the gas station and into a free standing garage, oh yes, so worth a dollar, good thing mom opted to wait in the car, we’d never hear the end of it. We look around at the things hanging on the wall, just junk from the town land fill probably… and then we make it to THE THING. It was a mummy, I think, it might have just been a dummy advertised as a mummy, but whatever… All wrapped in gause and lying in the glass case. We looked at the mummy for about a minute and then look at my dad who starts laughing.
When we get to the car, dad tells mom she has to buy a ticket and go see it. So like him… she refused and back in the car we went…
I guess one of the things that absolutely sums up my fathers approach to life (Over the top, dramatic and big) are his theme dinners. Even when I was little he’d pick a place, a movie, or a tv show and cook around that theme. The whole living room and dining room would be decorated up, fried chicken and quilts for Little House on the Prarie… Jumbalaya, jazz music, mardi gras beads and crazy masks for New Orleans. Sombreros, mustaches and Mexican blankets for Mexican night. To my dad, bigger is always better.
The more complex, the more frustrating, but also the bigger payout in the end.
A favorite memory of my dad would have to be when I was from first and second grade, and we lived in Washington state. My mom worked the late night shift at a hospital or nursing home, and dad would stay up to write. This is when he was working on his very first book. Me and my little sister would play at his feet while he wrote, I can just hear his fingers bouncing off the keys… slowing when he had to think through something, and quickly speeding up when an idea came to mind.
I love my dad, and I hope he knows how much I appreciate him, and really love him. Without my dad I wouldn’t have my sense of humor, my dream big take on life, I might not lose everything I have ever owned, and my love for James Bond and Our Man Flint would definately not exist nor would my green eyes. So here’s to you dad… May all your still insanely out there dreams come true and may 2011 be the year we pack our bags for “Easy Street.”