These may not all be accurate, but they are how I remember them.
- The dad I know would drink and curse and smoke cigars. He also stood guard in the church parking lot. I imagined the day I could stand guard with him. Derek and I used to drink half frozen lemonade on a hot day and talk about how we couldn't wait to drink beer with Dad.
- The dad I know came home from work to kill a rattlesnake in the doghouse with a shovel. Then he skinned it and put it on his hat.
- The dad I know played baseball at Palomar. I still have the grey hoodie to prove it. This may be part of the reason I played baseball in high school. Or he may have just gotten the hoodies in exchange for piling a bunch of manure on their field.
- The dad I know had a handful of different jobs while we were growing up. He was a carpenter. He drove a fertilizer truck. He drove a combine in the field across the road. I brought him lunch there once. He milked cows at night. He welded, he painted, he designed, he executed.
- The dad I know could be hard in his discipline. But he once chased us around the kitchen island until he couldn't keep a straight face and we all got out of being punished. He also once set my brother Derek and me against each other with pool noodles until we beat each other into realizing what a genius he was. Some nights he would come into our room and talk to us after he had handed out some punishment and apologize.
- When something breaks, the Dad I know would get his hands dirty, swear, worsen whatever he's trying to fix, but he'd figure it out. If I ever buy a motorcycle, it would be because of him. If I ever build a car in my garage, it would be because of him. If I ever own a firearm, it would be because of him. I read stories to my own kids in different voices and accents, incorporating their names as the characters because that's what he did. My music collection is shiny and costly because of him. Because the dad I know would drive us into town to pick up a new album from Stevie Nicks or Tom Petty. I can't listen to Endless Summer or Clapton Unplugged without images of driving in his brown and white Ford truck or the grey and black Suburban. I love to drive, to see new parts of the country because of him. Rachel and I spent our honeymoon doing this. The dad I know is my model for manhood.
- The dad I know had crazy death-defying stories from his childhood. Stories where he screwed things up, where he made mistakes, where he couldn't climb the rope in gym class, where he traded a motorcycle for a stolen car, or a car for a stolen motorcycle. Stories where we felt his humanity. These stories were important to us, even if we held them up to him when we screwed up too.
- The dad I know spoke to us in four languages. Our household was a muddied mess of onderzetters, listo?, and fucha fina. Now I teach my kids words and phrases in English, Spanish, Dutch, Frisian, German, French, Russian, and American Sign. Because of this.
- The dad I know is tough. His favorite pizza topping is wasp. No amount of physical pain could make him cry. The first time I saw Dad cry was when when his mother no longer recognized him. The second time I saw Dad cry was when we buried his father. This was the first time I realized I wouldn't have him around forever.
- The dad I know is full of advice. Some of it bad, "If it flies, floats, etc", some of it wistful, some of it surprisingly risque, but a lot of it well-intentioned, or even useful, like doing a job right the first time.
- The dad I know likes gadgets, and taught me that money isn't just for saving. It can be for spending on things you enjoy as well.
- The dad I know would drive too fast when Mom wasn't in the car. But Mom does this too when Dad isn't in the car.
