Dear Web Log,
Reporting live from my local library, courtesy still no internet at our new home. But how could I not take a break from tracking down schools, swim teams, veterinarians and children trainers without joining Clan Donaldson for Theme Thursday, Dads?!
Ever met my dad?
Now ya have. I think if just about any of his six children were asked to close our eyes and picture our dad, this is what we would see. Except usually in a chair, this is his weekend pose, let's keep it real.
My dad likes to read. But I am not sure that is accurate. That is like saying that guy in front of you in the checkout lane likes to breath, because, well, you noticed that. Reading is just him somehow, it is what he does, I think it would be degrading the word "like" to use it is this context. My dad reads.
And raised six relatively well brought up children. And bikes. And makes pizza. And does Tai Chi. And walks. And thinks. And paints. And does all kinds of boring mind games like Sodoku and crosswords and who knows what else. He knows practically everything there is to know about everything. And loves animals and babies and nature. And making fun of people to his children. And carrying a joke on well after it is no longer funny, I mean for thirty or more years in my experience. And making his grandchildren laugh. And British comedies and old westerns. And worrying, he absolutely loves worrying, and as soon as whatever scenario has played out that he has enjoyed worrying, no matter, he always has plenty of backup worries in the wings. He loves people in need, not people in search of some good small talk (apply elsewhere.) And my mom, he really loves my mom.
My dad was born in San Francisco and lived his babyhood in Long Island while his mama finished her college degree and his daddy was off dive bombing in WWII. He lived most of his childhood in France, and most of his teen years in Colorado. Met my mom at Vanderbilt, married her in a little chapel on the campus of Yale, whisked her and their baby off to Taiwan where he finished his PhD, and brought his family of by then four to South Bend, IN, where he has taught Political Science at Notre Dame for over forty years. And has now retired, making for lots more time to spend worrying over what retirement should be like, and reading.
My daddy gave all us kids his crazy hair, that will last for generations untold, his moodiness (bad pun, our last name is Moody), a disdain for snobbery of any kind, and love and strength as a natural inheritance to anyone raised under those fatherly hands. Thank you, Daddy, for all but the hair.
Here's another great dad I know...
Having a great father is the easiest way a girl can learn to appreciate and recognize a great man. Happiness begets happiness, and all that.