Thanks, Dad

Given that it's the day after Father's Day, I thought it highly appropriate to give a shout out to my good ole pops.

This weekend was a whirlwind, driving home in torrential rains on Friday, family stuff on Saturday before heading back that night so I could work at the drop zone on Sunday.

So needless to say I feel a little more than guilty for not spending Sunday with my dad.

But after reading this post by rs27 - who writes by far one of the funnies blogs ever, Your Beard is Good - I felt inspired to reflect on all those things my dad has done for me over the years.

After a recent conversion with my big brother, who in his pre-marriage counseling has to fill out a chart, plotting points on a graph of his relationship with his family members over time, I got to thinking about my relationship with my parents over the years. 

Every teenage girl has those turbulent years with her mother, so we'll shy away from that. But don't worry, mom and I get along great now!

But in my 25 years, I can't once think of a time where I could have asked for a better dad.

I was lucky that during my elementary school days my dad worked the night shift. He came to all of my school functions, signed up to chaperon every field trip, and I loved it.

He would pick me up from school and I was always proud to be walking out with my dad while the other kids got on the bus. Sometimes, on nice days, he'd even pick me up on one of our motorcycles - think dirt bike, not Harley.

After school and on weekends we'd be out shooting the basketball or I'd be running errands with him. I loved the time we spent together in the car, just the two of us, talking about who knows what anymore.

The summer before I started high school my dad took over a newspaper delivery route for a family friend. It required middle of the night drop offs - from 1 until 4 a.m. typically - driving around the country back roads. This was a daily adventure that I decided to help him out with.

Some of the best conversations took place in the front seat of his truck that summer. I gained an appreciation for music of his generation and I'd like to think he did for mine as well, maybe. Eh, Dad?

We even became immune to scent of skunk together. Had to be there, I guess.

Needless to say, I was sad when that summer ended. After that, my teenage years set in and boys became a main focus.

But no matter what I was involved in, my dad was there for it. Track meets in the rain. Tennis matches in the heat of the fall. And we can't forget how much time he spent with me on the court every summer. A little tradition that carried through to college - playing a couple sets indoors any chance we got.

Moving away wasn't easy, especially since he's not much of a phone talker, but I cherish the moments I get to spend at home and those days he comes to visit me. Next, I'm working on getting him to jump out of an airplane with me. Baby steps.

Thanks Dad, for always being there.

What are the best memories of your dad?

Cheers!

-A