The Dirt Field

I was going to give you a standard card today with my usual heartfelt message, but then I realized that Mom would kill me if I gave you one more piece of paper that would end up in your office at home, and we all know how poor of an idea it is to upset Mother. Just kidding. (We both know I’m not.) The real reason I decided to write a post about you instead of giving you a card is because I’d like everyone to know what I say to you on Father’s Day. I think my sentiments should be heard by all, and not just by you. So here goes.

Thanks for raising me. Great job, two thumbs up. Can I borrow $60?

Okay, so that was another joke. What I’d really like to say is thank you for being you. I think you can be an enormous pain in the ass sometimes, but I actually really like you, even the parts that are a little ridiculous. Sometimes you’ll be having one of your moments and Mom and I will look at each other like, oh my God, if he got any more absurd he’d explode, but I love those times because (A) they are very funny, and (B) I have those exact same moments myself. I’ve noticed that a lot in the past few years – you and I are so very much alike, in both good ways and bad.

Take the dishwasher for example. You spent hours of my childhood rearranging the dishes in the dishwasher and teaching me the importance of scrubbing everything absolutely spotless before actually placing it in the dishwasher to be washed, and I always thought you were nuts. But now, now I rearrange my own dishwasher on an alarmingly regular basis. I tell myself that I’m doing it just to create more space for other dishes, but it’s hard to deny my true intentions when I scold my roommate by saying, “There are no magic hands that come out and scrub food off the dishes!” It just goes to show that crazy is contagious, and that my children have a lot to fear.

I also have your tendency to know that I am always right. Notice I didn’t say to THINK I was always right, but rather to KNOW that I am always right. And why? Because you and I both know with complete certainty that we are always right. There is no having to think about it. We are both experts on many things and will not hesitate to share our knowledge with everyone around us. The best part for me is knowing that right now, as you are reading this, you are disagreeing with what I am saying because you’re thinking, “I don’t know I’m always right, what is she talking about?” You’re thinking this because you don’t even consciously think you know everything; it is just something you project automatically. Trust me. I know I’m right.

But these quirks we share, and this list goes on and on, only make me feel closer to you. When I was a difficult teenager and you were a difficult father, you were so impossible to relate to that I thought you might have come from another planet. We lived in the same house, but between your world and my world was an entire uncrossable solar system. Now I’ve grown up and gained some new perspective on both you and I, and even though we live miles apart, I think we’re closer than ever. I understand why you were the person you were then and why we had so much trouble communicating, and even though I think we were both wrong a lot of the time, I know you tried your hardest and that we can only be the people we really are at the end of the day.

It would be a lie if I said you didn’t still make me want to beat my head on the wall sometimes, but I know I do the same for you as well. I’ve mastered the art of making big, messy mistakes, but I know that even though they can be frustrating to handle, you’ve been more than understanding. I never thought I’d be one to call my dad for relationship advice or help with solving serious problems, but you’ve proven time and time again to be one who always comes through with good advice. Like your helpful “take two aspirin and drink a big glass of water before going to bed” advice, for example. Mom would have said something along the lines of how I just shouldn’t drink so much and that things are getting a bit excessive, and you come out with something truly useful. And now I use that everyday.

I’d like to end this by thanking you for doing something particularly noteworthy and fatherly in the past year, something that you may not know I know about. Last Christmas, I left an extended family gathering in a huff after somebody said something particularly intrusive and hurtful to me about the end of my marriage. I could have handled my response better and not let the situation get to me so much, but I felt very upset and wounded, so I left without a word. Mom later told me that when my hasty departure came up in a discussion, you stood up for me and told people that I’d had a hard time and been through a lot, and that while I was trying to be as strong as I could, I needed support and not judgment from my family. I never got a chance to thank you for doing that; I know you didn’t agree with a lot about that whole situation, so to hear that you stood up in my defense meant the world to me.

Happy Father’s Day, and thanks for being a wonderful father. Please save a copy of this post and remember me when you’re deciding who should get the title to your car. Also, please remember that Mom is the kind of driver who accidentally sideswipes the garage on occasion.

I love you,

Lindsay