ralph jr.

In light of Father's day, it is only fitting that I dedicate this post to my dad. And though I started writing this on Father's day, I'm a few days behind in posting it because... the tough part is, I can't begin to capture him in words.

The card I gave my dad said "When I was little, hanging out with my dad was one of the best things," and on the inside, "Still is." And of course, I immediately got choked-up in the Publix card aisle. I'm giving up on finding the perfect sentence to describe him, and instead will just offer up this rambling, poorly-punctuated paragraph:

My dad is is the greatest storyteller I've ever met. One of my favorite things to do is eat dinner with my family, and sit around even after the food is gone listening to stories that make you choke from laughing so hard. He is the smartest person I've ever met. I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for him I'd still be reading my 3rd grade math book, trying to understand the chapter on multiplication. And Dad, I have to admit that I've long forgotten my 12's. He's the reason I ever got an A on a science fair project. He is by far the handiest person I've ever met. My best Christmas present was a handmade troll house (way cooler than a barbie house), and I will take it with me to the grave. He has always given me the greatest school- and work- related advice. He taught me how to fish, and is still my favorite fishing partner (maybe my only fishing partner — I catch the fish and he takes them off the hook because I can't stand to touch them. Or even let them get close to me). He is my favorite person to watch sports with (his enthusiasm is contagious. Seriously, you can watch golf and be on the edge of your seat). He taught me everything I know about hard work, dedication, football, writing and how to treat people. A guarantee to make me cry is hearing my dad saying "I'm proud of you." He doesn't speak to hear himself talk, he speaks when he has something worthwhile to say... so when he says that, I know he means it. And probably the nicest thing anyone has ever written to me was this, from a poem that was my 18th birthday present: "I've always wanted to give something back to God, and along came You." No matter how old I get, my dad will always be my hero, the man who has all the answers and can fix all my problems. For myself, I can hope for nothing more than to grow up to be like him.

And I really can't think of a better way to spend Father's day than I did; eating a big Italian dinner with my family (which included my dad's homemade gravy), watching Tiger Woods on the 18th hole via the little TV on the screened-in porch and breathing in the summer air, thick with humidity and cigar smoke.