Last year on Father’s Day, I wrote a post (and poem!) about how my dad’s writing influenced mine. Well today is my dad’s birthday, and even though I’m 1500 miles away from where he’s celebrating, I’m thinking of him and wishing him the happiest of days today (and every day, really).
Of all the fond reminiscences I have of spending time with my dad, one popped to the forefront of my mind and really cheered me up this morning. When we were kids, my brother, sister, and I got to take turns spending quality time with Dad. Every so often, he would take one of us out for a night of fun—doing whatever we felt like doing—going to a movie or dinner or roller skating or Sesame Street Live (which for years my sister said was THE BEST NIGHT OF HER LIFE).
One of those “Turns” sticks out in my memory. Continue reading
A few weeks back, I wrote a post for Mother’s Day. Well lookie here, it’s Father’s Day! If my mom gave me my fandom, my dad gave me something equally important–my words. My cohost Deb often says words are her “kung-fu”, and I’ve stolen that phrase more than once. I’ve always been a writer, even when I wasn’t doing much with it in the sunlight, so to speak.
One of my strongest memories of growing up is going through a particular closet in our basement and discovering a stack of old, faded spiral-bound notebooks. They were the old-fashioned collegey kind with the formal-looking covers. I’d never seen anything like them before. (I was pretty young.) But my fascination at the covers was nothing compared to my delight when I discovered what they held. They were my dad’s, and they were filled with poetry. I can still picture his artistic, slanted, flowing handwriting filling the pages with amazing and magical and touching words. (And a few delightfully doodley drawings.) Continue reading