Sunday, July 1, 2007

Dear Dad,

Remember when I was 6, and Grandmother gave us her piano, and when it arrived at our house in Corpus Christi, I stood behind you and watched you play.
Remember the family "rassling" matches where our chief objective was to find out how in the world to tickle you without getting tickled first, and how you could somehow pin me, Eric, and Mom down with one arm and tickle us all at one time. We won on occasion, but only because mom got free and was the only one who could make you laugh.
Remember how you taught me to pitch in slow-pitch softball, and how we would practice in the front yard for hours. I could strike 'em out because you taught me how to pitch with an arch high enough to fool the batter, but drop right behind the plate. It got'em every time.
Remember how I could usually get out of a spanking with No daddy No daddy No daddy, pleeeeeease!
Remember that game we used to play, where I tried to match my footsteps to yours.
Remember how you could always help me with my math homework.
Remember how I used to show all my friends that came over this picture of you:
because I thought it was so cool that my dad used to have an afro, and "he even got it permed sometimes." (Heh heh)

I remember how you never missed a show, or a solo, or a game, or a recital, even if you had to drive miles and miles. That you've always encouraged me to follow my dreams, that you've always been right behind me, smiling, nodding, helping. That mom is the love of your life, that your work gave me opportunity, that your worry was my security. That I could look at you and know that my husband should be like that. And he is.

Thank you for loving me....
for better....


or for worse...


I love you, Dad.


Happy Father's Day,

Your One and Only Daughter....

7 comments:

The Secret Life of Kat said...

That's SO sweet. I'll bet you're dad is smiling ear to ear.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, that is pretty freakin' sweet.

Also, I love your dad's pants in that picture.

Jeanine said...

Just found your blog.... love it! Great to read a blog by a fellow-musician. And the post about your dad..... made me cry. I lost my dad to cancer earlier this year, and I wish I could have written him one more Father's Day card.

kddub said...

that is so sweet... the fro I mean.... well I guess the letter is too.

We sent Brody's dad a made gift, one you can't replace for fathers day, and he still has not gotten it yet!!!!! People have told me over and over to not use the mail, but to use UPS, and I didn't heed their wisdom, and now, here I am. I spent $20 extra dollars to get it there on time too.

There I vented, I feel better.

Hope your dad had a happy fathers day, and enjoys your letter!

FancyPants said...

Jeanine, I am so sorry about your dad. May God bring you comfort for your loss, and meet all of your needs as you endure. I am glad to have met another fellow musician as well! Thank you for stopping by, and I hope you'll come around as often as you would like!

Kat, my dad said to tell you that he is. =-)

Cach, those pants are rad.

KD, no the fro is sweeter than the letter. My dad might see it a little different, since he'll hold onto the letter but wouldn't dare bring back the fro. Shucks. And venting when the mail system fails you is required as an American.

SandinaJ said...

I love this!! That is so sweet.

Remember the time we went skiing and I somehow managed to get my butt up a blue/black mountain, but couldn't manage to get down. Your dad stayed with me the entire time (even though my "friends" kept skiing past us laughing at me becuase I was sitting in the snow with my mascara FROZEN to my face). He had more patience with me than I've ever seen from any other human being.

Your dad is pretty cool. You're very blessed.

FancyPants said...

Ha ha! I DO remember that. Yeah, Dad is the ultimate ski instructor. A couple of years ago we took a family trip, and Dad tried to be ski instructor for Seth. He would ski behind Seth and yell,

"Wedge, Seth! Wedge!"

HIlarious.

It's all fun and games until he makes you get up at 6 friggin clock in the morning to "catch some good slopes."