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Father's Day

My father tries very hard to be a curmudgeonly, bigoted, Archie Bunker of a man.  He has to work at it so hard because he's not really.  He's all for fairness, truth, justice, and keep your hands off my guns.  But he tries very hard to be that crusty old-fashioned father.

When I was a kid, oh, six or seven probably, I was in a "bug phase."  If it was an insect, I loved it.  My parents just kept a mayonnaise jar with holes punched in the lid under the seat of the car as a matter of course.  [If you know me, you know that this phase is so far gone as to be in an alternate plane of existence...]  For some reason that I don't recall, my father was working terribly late nights for a while - I didn't see him because he wasn't home by the time I went to bed.  One evening he woke me up when he got home from work - probably around midnight.  When he got out of the shop, there was a polyphemus moth that had banged itself up on the big parking lot lights and was flapping around at ground level.  Google it - those are the big six inch moths with the cool eye spots.  He chased that moth around the parking lot until he could get it into the mayonnaise jar and brought it home for me.  We looked at it for a while, and then he let it go in the back yard where there weren't any big lights for it to get in trouble with.

No matter how irritated he has made me over the years, and will continue to make me, he's the guy who finished a shift at midnight and then chased a moth all over a parking lot.  To make me smile.

Love you Dad.



( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Jun. 20th, 2010 08:18 pm (UTC)
That's an awesome story. Thanks for sharing that today.
Jun. 21st, 2010 10:49 pm (UTC)
I need to meet your dad.

BTW, give Bob a belated dad's day hug for me.
Jun. 22nd, 2010 02:32 am (UTC)
*I* like him. :-)
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )