Father’s Day.

It’s Father’s Day.
Pop-Pop, it’s been 15 years, this past February.  I miss walking into your house and seeing the jug of wine and bottle of ginger ale, waiting to be mixed.  I miss hearing your thump-thump as you moved around in the rowhouse.  I miss your grunting, gentle voice.  I miss your look of bemusement when my sister and I jumped on you in this picture.  You’re wearing a blanket my mother’s mother made, and we didn’t care that you were probably in no mood to have two irascible young girls crawling on you.  We just loved you.  We still do, and we miss you terribly.


I remember when we met.  You’d been dating my sister for a few months, so she figured it was ‘safe’ for you to meet me (aka, you wouldn’t run screaming when you realized your sister was related to crazy people).  She took me, you, and our brother Mike to Red Robin for the onion ring tower and burgers.  That was 7 years ago.  I knew you’d stick around for a really, really long time.  Since then, you married my sister (wise decision there, buddy) and the two of you have produced one of the coolest humans on the planet, my little nephew CJ aka lovebug.  You are one of the funniest people I know.  Thank you so letting me babysit your son; or, thank you for trusting that I won’t accidentally kill him or something.  You’re a pretty cool Dad, we get along extremely well, we both love 90s teen comedies (no joke) and I’m very thankful that A) I have a brother in law that’s as cool as you are and B) I have a sister cool enough to see that you were a keeper, the way I did when I first met you over burgers and onion rings.

I can’t put a picture of CJ on here because my sister would garrotte me, but here’s a picture of you shoving cake in my sister’s face at your wedding.  I love you, Todd.  Next time, I want a niece.  Somebody’s gotta inherit all of these awesome shoes.

I took this picture.  I maintain it’s the best picture from the entire wedding weekend.


For teaching me how to throw a softball, and how not to overreact when you accidentally hit me in the leg with one;
For taking me to a Borders bookstore one birthday afternoon and letting me me roam through the store, and whatever books I found you’d buy them for me;
For driving me to school nearly every single day in high school after my carpool graduated sophomore year, blasting U2 in your wraparound shades and attempting to convince me you could sing as well as Bono (you don’t);
For sharing my obsessive love of Arthurian literature.  When I told you I wanted to go into folklore as my concentration in graduate school, you shared with me that you always loved the stories of King Arthur; when I starred as Guenevere in Camelot four years ago, you were ecstatic;
For letting me know where you’re sitting every time you come to a performance I do by letting a piercing whistle come from the darkened theater house;
For scaring away every single boyfriend or potential boyfriend I had from middle school up until I was 24;
For making me tape 60 Minutes because Eminem was going to be on;
For saying things like “I think Justin Timberlake is SO talented” and being drop dead serious;
For giving me the biggest hug on the night I moved to New York, yelling “I’m so proud of you!” as Mom dragged you away to a cab;
For giving me another hug a few months later when I broke down and admitted I didn’t want to be in theater full time, telling me you stood behind any decision I wanted to make;
For watching Lonely Island Digital Shorts with me, not because I forced you to, but because you ordered me to put them on again;
For pushing me to be better: At school, in my health, in my career, in my life;
For providing me with nearly 27 years of amazing female role models in the form of your former and current players;
For making me watch video of historical college basketball players and teaching me the importance of people such as Oscar Robertson, Gail Goodrich, David Thompson, and Pete Maravich;
For taking me to the Basketball Hall of Fame when I was eleven and watching me GEEK OUT over meeting Gail Goodrich and David Thompson;
For making fun of me every single day of my life but never allowing me to leave your presence without a hug, because you’re always kidding;
For agreeing that when CJ was born he would address you as Pop-Pop, not just because it’s a family name for ‘grandpa’ but as a form of tribute to the Pop-Pop no longer with us (and for agreeing that while you’d be Pop-Pop, Mom would be “Nana”, as there will always be only ONE Nonna and she’s still alive and kickin’;
For marrying my Mom.  Easily the best decision you’ve ever made in your life.  You’d obviously agree with me.  You also taught me to be incredibly picky with my own dating life, and while I hated my picky nature for a long time, I’m now deeply thankful I was;
For being my eating partner, pulling leftovers out of the fridge and picking at them when Mom yells at us not to eat things out of the pan, and for making fun of all the healthy food I eat by calling it ‘granola hummus’;
For sitting through my production of The Vagina Monologues with a straight face;
For being the worst dancer on the planet;
For eating ice cream with a fork.

For being the best guy I know.

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

November 2011, at a fundraiser.  I changed into my brother’s sweatpants 15 seconds after taking this picture.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

now if you would please quit stealing my ice cream.


Published by The Curious Ally Cat

I'm a 34 year old adjunct professor and writer in Connecticut. People seem to like me because I am polite and I am rarely late.

4 thoughts on “Father’s Day.

  1. What a beautiful love letter to all the great men in your life. It's powerfully awesome that you recognize how special you are and how special they are and how special you all are together. Blessings to you all!


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