For My Dad on Father's Day: Thank you for not fitting the mold

Crossposted from Blogetary:

Dad and Me in his shop, Daly City, 1967

 I love my dad.

He wasn't always around, but that happens sometimes in families, especially when divorce is involved. When he was around, he did the best he could. Since he wasn't quite sure what it was to be a good father, he has tried to be a friend. But in striving for "friend" as the goal, he still has often hit "father" as the target. The older we get, the better it works.

As much as I love my father, I have a hard time with "Father's Day." Not for any dramatic reason, though. No story there. What I hate is that the grand American marketing machine has turned Father's Day into a day for fathers who only fit in a specific mold. If you look at advertising, TV, articles, "bits", cards and gifts for Father's Day, the only dads who exist wear ties, like watching sports, mow lawns, play golf and either play catch with their sons or are there for their daughter's debutante ball/prom/graduation, etc. Oh, and all dads are also slightly dweebie.

My dad fits exactly ONE of those conditions, the slightly dweebie bit, and that only occasionally. He doesn't wear ties or watch sports. I've never seen him mow a lawn or play golf or play catch. He tried to be around for some things, but wasn't. He has an English accent that becomes a tad "East End" when he's tired or sick. He likes a good, stiff G&T before dinner and black coffee with two sugars with his breakfast. When I see and hear people like Michael Caine and Ian McShane, I see and hear my dad.

Let me tell you about my dad. And then hopefully, one day, some nanobot belonging to a marketing company crawling through the cyber-verse will find this and may realize that not all dads are made alike and I will actually be able to find a card that fits him and says what he is to me. He is a unique individual and deserves to be celebrated with all the other dads on Father's Day.

My dad is very determined. It's easy to say stubborn when the determination is frustrating, but in the end, it's pure will and it's kept him alive. He moved here from London when he was about 30. He slept under hedges until he found a job with an employer willing to sponsor him here. Since then he's a built a life making a family out of the friends who surround him. They are a motley crew because he likes interesting people. Both his father and his father's father died fairly young, and here he is at 80, still walking around. Yes, there are advances in healthcare, but much of it is pure determination that kept him going.

Me and Dad out dancing with my stepmom and friends, 1985.

My dad lives life on his own terms. He likes what he likes, but he's willing to take a risk, too. He joined the military as a young man and was an MP in the RAF and was stationed in Singapore. He moved to the U.S. with nothing more than a few dollars in his pocket. He used to love to go dancing until all hours of the night. He was married several times until he found my stepmom (out dancing) and they realized that what worked for them wasn't marriage. They've been together for 30 years (before that his relationships ended in about 5-10 years).

My dad doesn't like being called "Dad," but we call him that anyway. And for all that, he still is willing to listen when you need to talk about something, but then you better be ready to listen to him analyze and turn over everything you just said, take it all around the backstop at the farthest end of the universe and back again as he muses over it. Two hours later you'll find yourself somewhere completely different from where you started. And then there might be a joke and a laugh. Nothing may have been solved, but you feel better anyway. You've seen another side of something. He's seen another side of something. You may not agree with each other, but there's something to mentally "chew" on.

My dad likes to enjoy life. For Dad going out to dinner means good conversation with people you enjoy. Cocktails and appetizers, wine with dinner, dessert with an aperitif or coffee, and lots of time in between to talk and talk and talk and talk. He likes a good laugh and a joke and enjoys being with people who don't get stuck taking themselves too seriously. He doesn't take himself too seriously. My mom has always said that no matter what was wrong with their relationship, they could always talk. In fact, after I've had a visit with him, I frequently stay silent for quite a while after. (It's a lot of talk.). On a side note, I've had several roommates who thought he had a sexy voice and he had no problem with joking around with them on the phone, sight unseen. My dad – the flirt.

He enjoys reading. His favorite books are historiographies (usually WWII), books on science (Stephen Hawking, Brian Green, etc.), philosophy (Marcus Aurelius, Omar Khayyam). He doesn't know what to do with the fiction I write, even less the poetry. He doesn't get it at all. BUT, on the other end of that, he likes Star Trek. One time he went to see a movie and saw Jonathan Frakes in the audience and went up to him and shook his hand and said, "Well done." My dad doesn't get starstruck, but that was a moment for him.

Dad and I in Astoria, 2003

He loves music, specifically classical, but also opera. His favorite composers are Benjamin Britten and Ralph Vaughn Williams (and he says Ralph and not Rafe and that is fine by me. If you want to be called Rafe then spell it Rafe, otherwise you'll be called Ralph, just like all the other nerds at school). He also likes Aaron Copland and Antonin Dvorak. He used to sing, took voice lessons. And he enjoys the piano he has, though he just plunks at it.

He enjoys learning. He likes the "great courses" things you can get sometimes. Loves listening to NPR in the morning. He is intelligent and self-taught. His father wouldn't let he or his brother go to university, though they passed the exam. He didn't want them to get "above" themselves. So, my dad buys books and reads up on things himself.

He's a genius when it comes to some things. He has been, for most of my life, a mechanic who fixes jukeboxes, pinball machines and sometimes video games. He's done other things as well, but that's mostly what he's done. Basically, he can figure out anything mechanical given enough time. He uses a bluetooth now like a champion security guy. He can put speakers anywhere so he can listen to his music wherever he happens to be. Has no clue about an iPod, though. He used to have a 1956 Cadillac he worked on for a while. It was his baby until he found a new home for it. The truck he's driving now he's put together from all sorts of parts. It's mostly a 1970s Chevy, but it's got a new transmission and Hummer retractable sideview mirrors. Last year when I was in it, it was barely street legal and I wondered if I was going to end up like the passenger in Death Proof. This year, I still had to grab the door itself to shut it (no interior handles yet), but the ride was a lot better. The thing is, he's built it out nothing. It's a sturdy truck, built out of the ephemera and detritus of junk yards and Craigslist.

It's still touch and go when it comes to the computer, though. I remember when he first got a computer getting phone calls in the middle of the night: "So, how do I get this internet thing going?" "Dad? Is that you?" "Yeah, community college was selling these used things cheap, but I don't know how to use it and the lady at AT&T said it was set to go. Where do I go?" "Well, type a search word into the box..." "Type a who in the what?" "Make sure the cursor is in the search box." *silence* "What's a cursor?" "Move the mouse around until the thing is in the search box." "Mouse? Do the cats know what this is?" "Yeah, dad...now, take that and move it around so you see the thing moving around on the screen. Then make sure you click in the search box - the big box in the center of the screen - until you see the vertical blinking line..." "What thing? What do you mean click in the search box?" "When you move the mouse around on the mouse pad, do you see a thing on the screen moving, too? Put that in the big box in the center of the screen and then click on the button on your mouse." "Okay, now what?" "Type your word in there." "Oh, right. Well now I've forgotten what it was I wanted to find out! You're a lot of help."

My dad has perspective and he's been around long enough to know that things will be what they will be. Money comes and money goes. When my dad was born in London, in 1932, there were still coster mongers and rag and bone men on the streets. He was one of the kids shipped out to the countryside during WWII. He's succeeded and failed at businesses and relationships. He's bought and sold cars and houses. He's made mistakes, but he also has a good heart and a generous spirit. He does his best to do right by people and see the best in them, but he also is quick to warn you if he sees something, and quick to help people who need it. I remember when I was 15 getting the "birds and the bees" talk from him. I hadn't seen in him a while. He took me out to lunch and said, "I want you know that whatever you want to do with guys, that's okay. As long as you enjoy it and want to do it. That's important. Don't do anything unless you want to do it." That was the extent of that talk. But I consider it one of the best sex talks a daughter can get from her father.

I worked for my dad the summer after I graduated from high school. He had a handbag repair business on Geary, up the street from Britex Fabrics. I don't know how helpful I was to him as an employee, but I learned a lot from my dad that summer. I was surrounded by people from Germany, Sweden, Norway, Poland, Beirut, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia (back when those both still existed), England and India. One of the best 4th of July's I had was that year (the other one was when I spent it at a consulate when I was in Shanghai, PRC one summer). The summer I went to China, when I got back, I spent a week with Dad. It was a good debrief. He was able to share some of his experiences in Singapore over Chinese curry dishes, as well as give me good advice as to the let down I might go through once I was back home, and some of the pitfalls I might run into as regards some of my friends at the time. He was right.

When he was growing up, the dogs and cats didn't get dog and cat food, they got the left overs of people food. And they did just fine. He used to go on and on about how dog and cat food was just a 5th Avenue conspiracy. These days, there are veterinarians who agree with him (and many who don't). When it came to my cat's diabetes, though, I know it was store bought food that made him sick sooner. When he was able to hunt outside and eat mice and birds, he was a lot healthier. My dad was right.

My dad is a perfectionist - a yearner of the perfect. He quit trying at the piano because he knew he would never be as good as he'd like to be. If you suggest a place for him to have dinner, chances are he won't order anything as is, but will ask for little changes to be made here and there. And then he STILL won't like it. But, he'll be a good sport about it.

Me and Dad, San Francisco, 2013

I love my dad. He's not the dad the 5th Avenue marketers tell me is supposed to be my father for Father's Day. He's not ANY of the dads I see on TV (though $#*! My Dad Says with William Shatner got close, and sometimes he's eerily like Archie Bunker). In fact, he's nothing like what all the stores and cards and what-have-you tell me that a father is supposed to be like. But, he's my dad. Like I said before, he's unique and he deserves to be celebrated like any other dad out there.

So, Happy Father's Day to my dad and I thank him for his uniqueness and for passing that uniqueness on to me.

And cheers to all the dads out there who are NOTHING like Hallmark and American Greetings say they're supposed to be like, but EVERYTHING like themselves.