My Dad is Cool

I apologize for the sporadic nature of my blog posts lately. Not all days have been good and so I don't feel the need to burden anyone with that right now. Perhaps later I will feel freer to share more, but right now the issues are too sensitive to go into.

I missed New England and my father on Father's Day quite strongly. I called him and lingered on the phone long past my usual conversations with him, striving to capture some of that "home" feeling I had last year when I visited in the summer. He didn't mind, he never does.

I inherited certain traits from my father that I am quite proud of. He gave me his love for books and a voracious reading capacity. He is a Stephen King fanatic and I also inherited that; I borrowed The Stand from him one summer as a teenager and read it in five days. It's nearly a thousand-page book but I couldn't put it down. Most of Stephen King's novels have that effect on me, and I believe it's his writing style as much as his story. I just have to see what's going to happen next, whether it's an ordinary trip to the store or an epic battle with a sneaky monster. Just like my Dad, I have piles of books in my room, both read and unread. The last time I visited I saw a square pile of books next to his bed that was nearly the size of the bed itself, which caused me to burst out laughing. Moving is a trial of strength for both of us, because we don't like to give away books.

I am a patient and methodical (sometimes maddeningly so) researcher of almost everything, especially if I'm about to purchase something. I will go on the 'net, read magazine articles, visit several stores and question other people before I even begin to decide I might want to buy something. The bigger the price tag the longer the research. This too is a trait my Dad has and which I know I learned from watching him do it.

I enjoy all kinds of music, because I was exposed to all kinds through aha! my Dad. As a teenager I was surprised but delighted when he insisted on listening to the "progressive" (the 80's name for Alternative) rock station on drives anywhere and at home, and entertained going to P.I.L. concerts with me, even if only briefly. P.I.L. stands for Public Image Limited, a band fronted by former Sex Pistols band member Johnny Lydon (a.k.a Johnny Rotten). My sister was not overly into 80's rock at the time but that was ok as well since he loved to play oldies but goodies from the 60's and 70's as well. The Doors and Pink Floyd rocked right along with Duran Duran and O.M.D. in our house. It was a teenager's dream. We were getting told to turn it up, not turn it down.

Of course since we both loved Stephen King we both loved horror movies. One summer we spent renting every horror movie the local video store had in stock. This was before chain stores drove the mom-n-pops out of business. We even rented an extremely low-budget slasher flick made by college students called "Driller Killer" and yes it was as bad as its name. We didn't care, we ate popcorn and laughed through all of it. I still love B-movie horror flicks to this day, but I see them less often because its less fun having no one to watch them with, and my husband isn't a fan, for which I don't really blame him. He does like Bruce Campbell and Evil Dead though, so that's major points in my book.

I believe, like my Dad, that home life and getting regular breaks from work is important, important enough to look for that description on any company's website before I consider them. "We foster a good work-life balance". Great, then you're for me. If I can shut off my cell phone and not answer my home phone on the weekends or whenever my days off are and not get grumped at for it, I will work as hard as I can for you the rest of the week. Work's all well and good, but family time is absolutely essential.

He gave me his love for digging in the dirt, making things grow, and then eating the fruits (or vegetables) of his labors in some truly great food. I still have a way to go when it comes to harvesting bumper crops like he does, but I'm learning. I can't not try to grow things each spring, even if they don't do well. I remember my father's garden, and hope mine can be like that too someday.

Thanks for the things you gave and showed me Dad. I wouldn't be me without you.