They say a girl always marries a guy just like her dad, but…
My dad’s work attire consisted of boots, jeans, t-shirt and a hat, no cologne (unless you count the diesel fuel smell that foiled my mother for decades). My husband is a daily-necktie kinda guy – and while he also doesn’t wear cologne – he does gel his hair.
My dad is football and westerns, my husband is hockey and sci-fi. My dad didn’t know how to work the coffee pot until my mom passed, my husband makes and brings me two cups of coffee every morning. My dad once built a heckuva messy-lookin’ chicken run in an afternoon, with mostly scraps laying around his property, my husband spent 4 months building a 3-shelf stand to house dirty boots – inside a closet – and actually never finished because I bought a premade unit out of frustration.
When I was 5-years old, my father took me fishing. We stood along the bank of the pond, he looked me square in the eye and said, “I will bait your hook ONCE, I will take off your FIRST fish, after that you are on your own, I’m here to fish, too.” When my family of five hits the banks of the river my husband drops one, maybe two, hooks – he spends the rest of the time addressing our casting woes.
While I enjoy being the life of the party just like my dad, my oldest daughter has been known to ask, “Why am I such a dud?” to which her dad stakes claim by raising his hand and saying “hello….?” (to be fair – neither is actually a dud, but they are a little more… reserved, shall we say? than the rest of us).
My dad, on the rare occasion he imbibes, is a rum and coke guy, my husband is a nightly, craft beer guy. My dad last stepped foot in a church on his wedding day (1967), my husband attends every Sunday, sits on a couple of church committees and performs with the church band. My dad’s favorite pastime involves poker chips, my husband tinkers with micro-chips.
When I was 6? Maybe 7-years old my dad invited me to fish on the Chesapeake Bay with him. He told me he’d wake me once and if I wasn’t ready to go at 4am sharp, he’d leave me behind. When he went to my room the next morning, my bed was empty. He found me fully dressed, sleeping in front of our back door. I was standing in the 7-11 buying my Yoo-hoo and donuts at 4:02. The first time my husband invited our kids to a Hagerstown Municipal Band concert they whined, until I informed them, “you are going.” The four of us sat in the car for 11 minutes waiting for him.
My dad dug up and moved a Japanese Maple tree, sat it on top of the ground, put a little dirt around it… it has thrived for 12 years, my husband diligently followed the care instructions for an 80-year-old bonsai tree for 2 months, until it died. Every evening, my father enjoyed a home-cooked meal prepared by my mom, I didn’t even know we had a kitchen until Dan mentioned remodeling it to make his dinner prep easier. My dad thinks a good turkey call is music to his ears, my husband picks up any of the myriad instruments we own to bring music to his ears.
At the age of 69 my father had open-heart surgery and refused rehab because after 2 weeks he was already walking further on his own than the physical therapist recommended, the guy I married says, “I’m not sure what’s going on with the cold you gave me, but it picked up steam on its way over.” (full disclosure: my father is a weak, weak shell of a man when he has a cold and my husband would muscle through a surgery just to irritate me).
My father has – on more than one occasion – won the 50/50 at Bedford Speedway, my husband responds to poker invites with, “How ‘bout I just hand you a 50 and save myself the embarrassment?” (to his credit he says he used up all his luck when he found me… I say he’s just ALWAYS been unlucky).
And yet… are they really all that different? I mean… they vacation together – without me (4-wheeler junkies, the both of them), they both have excellent mechanical skills yet have leaned shoulder-to-shoulder on a car while I was under it changing the oil, they both rank The Blues Brothers as the funniest movie ever written and think Marty Robbins’ voice is butter. But their most striking similarity is the fact they are both the most incredible father I know.
My childhood was filled with Saturdays spent riding next to my dad on his backhoe and Sunday-morning fishing trips and soaking up every bit of sports knowledge he possessed. When he calls me Princess, I laugh at the (intended) mocking irony of it. I loved being with my dad (still do) and my fondest childhood memories involve time spent with him. Call it nurture, call it nature but I was blessed with his quick wit and wicked sense of humor (conversely, I got the broad shoulders and facial hair from my mother’s side).
He isn’t the type of dad who kissed me goodnight and told me loved me – as a matter of fact – we shook hands every night before I went to bed, but he is a “hey I put oil and a filter in your trunk, you won’t need it for a month or so, but I didn’t know when you were coming home next” kind of dad. My favorite movie is still The Dirty Dozen because I can so clearly remember curling up on the floor with him 39 years ago and watching until I fell asleep (incidentally… if you’ve ever seen it, you know that is NOT an easy movie to sleep through… what I wouldn’t give for that sleeping prowess today). My father will always be my hero…
And my husband does not disappoint as the sequel to his greatness. Our kids have been blessed with an equally remarkable dad. He is the most caring, selfless, accommodating man I’ve ever met. He’s never too tired to do whatever it is they ask of him, and if he is – he does it anyway. He holds them accountable then offers unwavering support. He earns their respect simply by respecting them. They adore their dad.
It’s pretty nifty watching all three of our kids have a different relationship with him and even more impressive is his ability to nurture each bond, simultaneously, with seamless effort. He has introduced our kids to classic movies, astronomy, ice skating and music – from Beethoven to The Beatles to the Beastie Boys. He provides a sense of calm in the midst of Storm Karen (as I tell my entire brood… unfortunately with the good passion, comes the bad passion). He has shown our son how to be a good husband and father and he has shown our daughters how they should be loved.
If I’ve done anything right in this lifetime, it was in choosing the man to father my children – I had an awesome 1.0 version to guide me….