Often I say out loud, “what should I blog about?” to whoever is around (strangers included). Now that I’ve blogged for well over a year, I’ve said most of what I imagined saying in my blog. But I still want to write something. And I have eight whole readers who I would hate to leave high and dry. So today, my friend Tracey was the one who inspired my post. She’s so logical. I hadn’t even put Father’s Day and blog together. I’m a bit slow.
My dad is a man of routine. Each morning he wakes up and runs. He is very fit. He has been a school teacher for over thirty years. He teaches fifth grade. For awhile there in the nineties, he was in state politics. I used to sign wave and canvas and fund raise for him. After sign waving, he would take me out to breakfast at Ma’s Place, his favorite spot. I would order a hot chocolate with extra whip cream.
Then, when he was elected into office, I would love to come to the Capitol to see him. During that time, he drove a red VW Karmann Ghia. The speedometer was broken on it, so it always said you were driving 15 mph less than you really were. I remember him flying down I-5 at 90 miles an hour. I was excited and scared at the same time so I said, “wow, you’re going really fast.” Dad replied, “I’m only going 75, see? The speedometer says 75.”
My dad loves to play games he’s good at. He will play you in croquet, marbles, ping pong, chess, or Carroms anytime you’d like. The only one of these I ever had a chance at was marbles since it has the most luck involved. When we were kids, he offered any of us $100 if we could beat him at chess (back then, that was a small fortune). For awhile, we were all intent on winning that money. We spent hours practicing with each other, then trying our hand against dad. He could get my king into checkmate within seven turns. Amber is the only one who ever beat him. We all asked her how she did it and she didn’t remember. She said she just moved some pieces around and didn’t know what she was doing.
My dad always told me I was smart. He would read my short stories and tell me I was a great writer. He would marvel at words I knew at a young age and would quiz me on spelling, always trying to stump me. I still use his old trick of Lie-u-ten-ant on the rare occasions when it comes up.
My dad has had the same style as long as I remember. He’s a man who knows what he wants. You will never see my dad in a t-shirt: he only wears button-downs. Long sleeved in the winter, short sleeved in the summer. If he finds something he likes, he buys multiples. His hair only changes when the wind blows. He is consistent in everything: including always loving his four children, no matter what.