|Me & My Dad, circa 1986|
First, I’d like to acknowledge that these days recognizing certain people we’re “supposed to” have good relationships with are very stressful for some people, whether it’s because those relationships are strained, nonexistent, etc. Or, the day might be painful because the person is no longer with you. You may notice that there’s no Mothers’ Day post on this blog. So I get it.
I am glad to say that I do have a good relationship with my dad. My parents divorced when I was very young, but I remember him always being in my life. I’d go over to his house every other weekend.
For quite a while, we had a routine. He’d pick me up on Saturday morning. We’d go to breakfast, then head to his house. He’d realize he had nothing in the fridge to feed me the rest of the weekend, unless I was to subsist on OJ and pickles. Yeah – he was quite the bachelor.
We’d also go to the bookstore. There, I’d buy two books – one for Saturday, one for Sunday.
Now, my dad didn’t have a lot of money, and I was probably a bit of a brat, insisting that I needed two brand new books every two weeks. But he made it happen. He didn’t give me a hard time about curling up on the couch and reading, even though he was more of an outdoors, social guy. He’s take me to the park, where he would be meeting a friend to play tennis. I’d find a shady spot and read. I can’t imagine what a foreign little creature I must have seemed.
Thanks for accepting me for the kid I was, daddy!