Friday, June 13, 2008

Happy Father's Day and Thanks for Not Kicking My Ass

Hey, Dad:

Thanks for all the years of giving me shelter, food and a good life by working like a dog. Speaking of dogs, I know you tried many times to convince Mom to let me have one. It's was like banging your head against the wall, I know, but I appreciate it nonetheless.

Thanks for attending nearly all my baseball games, Tiny League through high school. This includes junior year when I spent the entire season in the bullpen warming up a bunch of rag arms that even I could have smacked a triple off even though, as you've pointed out on more than one occasion, I run as if I have a refrigerator on my back.

Thanks for letting me drive the Oldsmobile Cutlass along the back roads that one time when I was 13.

Thanks for giving me the Oldsmobile Cutlass when I finally got my driver's license.

Thanks for The Talk before college and for knowing that "don't be stupid" was all you needed to say.

Thanks for not quitting on me that time when I was pitching and I told you from the mound that I needed a "father not a coach." I'm a real jerk at times.

Since I mentioned "The Jerk," thanks for taking me to my first R-rated movie when I was only 11.

Thanks for taking me to the midnight showing of "The Kids are Alright" at the old Avon on a school night when I was 14.

Thanks for throwing me all that extra batting practice even though you regularly ran the risk of a line drive denutting you. I know all that pitching contributed to your need for rotator cuff surgery a few years back. Sorry about that, too.

Thanks for not kicking my ass that time I drove home from a party in high school under the influence of Coors and peppermint schnapps. Did you go easy on me because of that Christmas Eve incident a few years earlier? Either way, we're square.

Thanks for never making me feel guilty about unpopular things I've had to do like moving to frickin' Texas of all places.

Thanks for buying all those Topps baseball cards with the powdery, stale "gum" inside on Sunday mornings along with the donuts from Beldotti Bakery and the New York Daily News. All influences on my life … not necessarily good ones, but special ones.

Thanks for never publicly questioning my parenting skills and technique during parties and family gatherings at my house.

Thanks for telling me last year that I'm a good Dad.

Thanks for harassing all your clients to donate to Cure JM every year to help us find a cure for Thing 1's autoimmune disease. You're helping many more children than just mine.

Finally, thanks for not practicing birth control that one time, or else I couldn't thank you for anything at all.

Here you go: still the greatest Dad song ever. Enjoy your day. I'll try to do you proud.

Video: John Hiatt, "Your Dad Did"
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  1. Aw. Good dad, good kid. And you're cooking up a nice one in your own boy too.

    May this father's day bring you many happy surprises.

  2. Nice blend of humor & sweetness. You're elbowing into my game. You're the bitter sarcastic guy. I'm the funny sweet guy.

    No really. Good stuff Special K.

  3. Aw.. let's all go have a good cry now.

    Seriously though, nice work ;).

    Oh, and the Olds Cutlass? 'Holla! My grandparents sold me theirs for $1 when I was in high school and my friends affectionately named it "Gertrude".. "Gertie" for short.
    (Piece of crap always died going through intersections though if you didn't know how to drive it just right.)

  4. MM - If it's a third kid, I quit.

    BHJ - Bitter sarcastic guy. Hmm, beats being the bitchy spastic guy, I guess. I shall remove my peanut butter from your chocolate. Thanks, McIlhenny.

    HMC - I drove that car until I turned 20 (it has 135,000 miles on it) when, while en route to admissions testing, a front tire rod just snapped off as I rounded the corner by a synagogue before getting onto the interstate. That was the day I forever devoted my lif to finding the perfect knishes. Thanks.

  5. great post! i am loving reading all these father's day posts from the actual fathers! we moms thought we knew what we were doing, but you guys rock!

  6. We are good, capable people once you get past our brains being in our penises 73 percent of the time. Or so I've been told.

    Nat - Hey there, Turkey girl! Grab a handful of crunchy Cheetos and join the festivities.

  7. Can you scribe the Christmas Eve incident?


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