It's become a habit of mine to post the same Mother's Day post every year. It isn't because I'm lazy but because whenever I read it I realize I couldn't say it any better than I already had. I was surprised when I looked back and saw I had written more than one Father's Day post but once again after reading them I'm stuck with the same thought. I can't say it any better now than I did than and so here is what I wrote three years ago.
"I suppose I never mention my dad much, not nearly as much as he deserves. The quiet one of the family, just sitting back and watching as his crazy kids grow hopefully into something worthwhile. If my mom was my early inspiration my dad was the rock I leaned on. The one I go to when everything seems destined to fall apart.
I was the first, and I don’t think he wanted to wait years for ‘the kid’ to come along, so I became the pseudo jock artist at an early age. Of course I hadn't yet thrown lesbian into that mix, even I wasn't that young. I played all kinds of sports before settling on field hockey full time and he was always there. He was always the quiet one but always there for the games, the tournaments, and would drive me to Philly to go to a cool sports shop for sticks.
I am a lot of things because of my dad and a few things despite him, yeah try and guess that last one. I suppose that is how it is with anybody. I’m totally passionate about my sports and at times I am a voracious reader. I have been known to fish, yes fish. While my mom was taking me to New York and museums my dad was sneaking me off to Phillies games and sharing the shear sloppy joy of a cheese steak. I love to play ice hockey, skate, and I always wear hockey skates.
He bought me my first camera telling me, with a wink, that I couldn't paint everything.
And he pushed me to get my masters when I had had just about enough and was ready to give up. Though, to be honest, I always thought he steered me into Art History because he figured I would have a better chance of getting a job and getting out of his hair.
Like I said he is always there."
Happy Father’s Day Dad
"I suppose I never mention my dad much, not nearly as much as he deserves. The quiet one of the family, just sitting back and watching as his crazy kids grow hopefully into something worthwhile. If my mom was my early inspiration my dad was the rock I leaned on. The one I go to when everything seems destined to fall apart.
I was the first, and I don’t think he wanted to wait years for ‘the kid’ to come along, so I became the pseudo jock artist at an early age. Of course I hadn't yet thrown lesbian into that mix, even I wasn't that young. I played all kinds of sports before settling on field hockey full time and he was always there. He was always the quiet one but always there for the games, the tournaments, and would drive me to Philly to go to a cool sports shop for sticks.
I am a lot of things because of my dad and a few things despite him, yeah try and guess that last one. I suppose that is how it is with anybody. I’m totally passionate about my sports and at times I am a voracious reader. I have been known to fish, yes fish. While my mom was taking me to New York and museums my dad was sneaking me off to Phillies games and sharing the shear sloppy joy of a cheese steak. I love to play ice hockey, skate, and I always wear hockey skates.
He bought me my first camera telling me, with a wink, that I couldn't paint everything.
And he pushed me to get my masters when I had had just about enough and was ready to give up. Though, to be honest, I always thought he steered me into Art History because he figured I would have a better chance of getting a job and getting out of his hair.
Like I said he is always there."
Happy Father’s Day Dad
