‎"...a little 'trouty', but quite good" ~ Eve Kendall, North By Northwest

Sunday, June 21, 2009

the Easter Bunny

My dad used to tell me I had been born to a wealthy family across town who wanted to remain wealthy. He says he and my mom found me in a box on their doorstep.

He told me not to accept any dinner dates, because no one would ever marry me after he saw how much I could eat.

I used to call him the Easter Bunny, because in high school I was embarrassed by his pink-rimmed glasses and bow ties. He swore the frames were "flesh toned." When it came time for new frames, he ordered the pink ones because he liked his nickname.

When I was the only one with no boyfriend, my dad told me it was because I was tall and beautiful and, quite frankly, I scared all the boys. I still don't believe that was true, but he told me to keep it up anyway.

When a college professor intimidated me, he reminded me that PhD stands for "piled higher and deeper."

The year I went to college, I asked him what he would think if I came out as valedictorian. He told me he'd be proud, but he was afraid I'd miss out on a lot of fun. He wasn't sure it was worth it.

Dad had a little notebook he kept in his shirt pocket (no pocket protector, but only by the grace of God). He called it his brains. When we quizzed him if he remembered when our birthdays were, he'd check his brains.

I called my family when I was in Germany. Everyone was on the phone when I told them I was on my way to Italy. "But you don't speak Italian!" said my mom. "Get me some shoes!" said my sister. "How much is this call costing me?" said my dad.

After he died, I dreamed about him regularly. In one dream he asked why I never called him and I told him I didn't have his number. "Oh, you've ALWAYS had my number," he said.

You know how people always say you marry your dad? Well it was really, really hard to find someone who even came close. It was worth the wait.

Happy Father's Day to everyone worthy of the title "dad."


cindi said...

wow Suz.
i remember your dad...

his pink glasses and bow tie.
he was really really really tall.
and thin.

no matter what we did,
he'd say 'ok.'
we wouldn't tell him the other things.

he brought back 'the wall' from england so that you had and shared it with me before anyone else in the u.s. (so frickin' cool)

he was dorky.
he was wonderful.

he worked on ellis island.

i remember when he died.
the metaphysical confusion.
you were trapped in the house.
i came and rescued you.
we went out.
i recall a distinct place of trying to balance the confusion over accepting not only his death; but the repercussions in a deathless philosophy.
it didn't make sense.
i was glad you called.

i remember your home in evergreen.
and your first car.
how you fought to not pay for the stereo.

i remember the international scout.
in vail.
you unicycled the vail pass.

we wandered vail as well as skiied it and were free there.
the snow was no bother.

i miss your dad.
he was really cool.
i'm glad you have his number... goose bumps

i'm glad you have Chris, but he didn't strike me at all like your dad. there is no other.

Chris, you're a wonderful father !
and a cool guy.
happy father's day ! and solstice !

Susan said...

Thanks, Cin!

Chris and dad both have engineering minds and have both tried to explain to me how the sculpture at the Hirshhorn doesn't fall down. They are also two of the most patient men I know, which is good because otherwise I would be dead by now and no jury would convict.

They are both Absent Minded Professor types and will forget to pick you up from orchestra practice, repeatedly. It will not make you doubt their love.

Laggin said...

Your husband wears pink glasses? Cool.

Bella said...

i too miss the easter bunny and while there is no other, i do see how Chris has similarities to your dad. and i'm quite sure that you didn't even realize this at first. your dad and Chris have such sneak-up-on-you personalities disguised in "cool" dork clothes. it's scary really.

Newt said...

Oh Susan, now you've gone and made me cry in my pancakes.

Tiny Dancer said...

You've inspired me to go write about my dad. Sorry I didn't get to meet your dad. If Chris is anything like him, you were a lucky daughter!

TwoBusy said...

That was really quite lovely.

Greg said...

What a wonderful tribute.

Dana's Brain said...

A beautiful post! Dad's are a special breed. Yours sounds like he was a wonderful example.

earthandskye said...

What a delightful read. I love how you love your Dad. We have some things in common....I was found in a garbage pail and the neighbors across the street found me.

p.s. thanks for visiting and commenting