My First Great Love Is My Dad

I'm going to do some bragging here: My Dad kicks ass.

My earliest memories of my Dad go pretty far back, to when I was 2 years old or so. I remember he would come home from work every night and have my sister and I find bags of M&Ms or some other treat in his coat pocket.

I remember Lisa and I getting into bed with him every Saturday morning. Mom would go make breakfast and Dad would make a tent out of the covers. We'd be under the covers, me, Lisa and our Dad, and he'd make up stories or tickle us or play wrestle. We'd stay there with him and laugh till breakfast was done.

After breakfast Lisa and I followed him to the bathroom, where he'd sit one of us on the toilet bowl tank, and the other on the bathroom counter. He'd put shaving cream on our faces and we'd pretend to shave as he did. When that was done, Lisa stayed behind with Mom and I'd go on errands with him: first to the bank, then wherever else, then back home.

Sometimes after lunch I'd join him at the TV, and we'd watch a James Bond movie or Black Sheep Squadron together. I remember how amazed I was when he told me Black Sheep Squadron is based on a real U.S. military squadron. He'd always point out the differences between fact and fiction on the show. If the show's art imitated real life occurrences, he'd explain it to me further too. Those Saturday conversations with my Dad is where my interest in history and world events started.

My childhood memories of my Dad don't stop there: there were trips on the Circle Line, baseball games, the Zoo and Aquarium (also with Mom of course). I also remember when I outgrew my first two-wheel bike, he bought me a 12-speed, just because I needed one. Not for my Birthday or any occasion, just because. He was a "give the shirt off my back for my family" type of Dad. Still is.

Even the way he treats my Mom, he is my measuring stick for all men. He used to ask me "why are you still single?" I'd tell him "it's YOUR fault, I can't find anyone who treats women the way you treat Mom." (Although I may have hit jackpot this time, no jinxes!).

When I was living on my own, he always stopped by with groceries or a home-cooked meal (from Mom of course) because he wanted to make sure I was eating well.

I can go on and on about my Dad, but this Blog is long enough so I'll sum it up. As far as Dads go, he never made me feel like I needed anything, material-wise or emotionally. There was nothing I missed out on. Not to say I'm spoiled, because as soon as I got old enough to get working papers, my parents made sure I learned the value of a dollar and how important employment is (but not at the risk of my education). I'm not saying we were The Brady Bunch either. We've had our moments, but at the end of the day, we are a family and sometimes, families fight. The love is still there though, always will be.

My Dad will be 71 years old in October. He is healthy as a horse, THANK GOD, except for a bad hip. I know I don't see him as often as I should but if the whole "yours ears ring when someone talks about you" thing is true his ears would be in a lot of pain, cause I'm always talking about him, to anyone who'll listen.

So that's my Dad. His name is Sonny. Wasn't it just nice to meet him?