My Dad

In the summers we drove to Forest Park, a verdant chunk of land right outside the city of Portland. Dad brought a long rope and heaved it up strong - the way young dads can - until the rope caught a high branch of this one large oak tree. Then he’d make us a swing that made swing-sets look absolutely ridiculous. Dad swung us so high it was scary.

I loved coloring as a child. Dad drew me pictures of things to color, like a house or a sail boat. He's a very rigid drawer, the kind of guy who uses ball point pens and writes in all capital letters. Sometimes Dad drew me bikes to color, but you can't really color a bike because it's too skinny. I suspect Dad prides himself on being the reason I still love drawing and coloring.

Once, while at the car dealership Dad worked at, Dad asked me to draw a picture of one of his coworkers surrounded by women. I spent a long time drawing. I gave all the women large breasts. Pretty sure Dad was using me to entertain his friends rather then to showcase what a great artist I was.

Dad took me to the dump sometimes to get rid of debris or Christmas trees or something. It was just me and him. The drive was long and I’m sure we listened to Tom Jones along the way. He also took me to Seattle to see some of his buddies because they had a daughter named Marie who was my age. I didn't like Marie but I can't remember why. She had lots of toys and her room was always a mess.

I called Dad a bastard once and he grounded me from spending the night at a friend’s. Then I explained I had no idea what that word meant and he listened and changed his mind and let me go.

In the winter, when the snow fell, Dad, my little brother and sister, and I would lay in the yard wearing only our swimsuits. We froze our butts off challenging one another as to who could stay longer in the snow. Then we’d rush to the hot tub and feel our nerves sting and prick as we warmed up.

In the mornings, when it was really cold, Dad woke up early in the morning to get a fire going in the wood stove. The heat coaxed us out of bed to get ready for school.

After our house flooded, Dad and I spent a lot of our time filling sand bags. We built a bunker in the front yard so that next time it flooded the waters couldn't get inside. Dad and I were a great team. He would scoop while I held the bag out for him. It was winter and our hands got really cold. We were protecting out home. It was very important.

Dad loved his rose bushes. He watered them all the time. I used to check the roses for aphids. Dad gave us roses to give to our teachers. My teacher did not deserve a rose but she got one anyway.

At the beach Dad could dig the most AMAZING holes in the sand. Like four feet deep! After he was done we would stand in them and he would bury us. Thank none of us kids were claustrophobic.


One New Years Dad, it might have been Y2K, Mom and I danced in the living room to (probably) Tom Jones. My Dad did the moonwalk. He never did this before and he has never done it since that night.

When talking to Mexicans Dad takes on a Chinese-Latin hybrid accent. He confused the hell out of my French host parents when he called their house trying to get a hold of me saying, "’Bone-jew,’ Rachel, plait," which means, "Good Day, Rachel likes..."

Sometimes Dad read to us or told us bed-time stories. He tweaked the stories to make them hilarious. To this day he does this and they're still hilarious.

My Dad loves Whale Wars even though he complains the people on the show are morons. "Why don't they drop stuff from the helicopter?!?" he always says. Mom said Dad was really upset when, in one episode, a whale was harpooned and caught.

After my sister and I moved out of the house Dad found Jesus. He refuses to admit the correlation.

As children we weren't allowed to say "KILL" or "HATE." Dad said they were ugly words. They are.

Dad wears briefs.

Instead of cussing Dad censors himself. He says, "What the ____ is going on?!"

On vacations Dad brought his camcorder. He wasted hours of footage filming the road while driving, pointless scenery, mountains, and remarkable things that seen in person are meaningful but on tape are flat and 2-dimensional. As we go through old videos I am sure he regrets it.

Dad is the greatest story teller in the family. He is constantly aware of his audience and a true master of articulation and emphasis. He translates these skills into his lectures which are not as great.

Dad has always loved Patron.