A Day Late

Note: I had originally intended for this to post on Sunday for Father's Day, but I dropped the ball.  Sorry, all you daddies out there!  We were definitely thinkin' of y'all yesterday.

Where would we be without daddies?  A scary thought, indeed, when I think about all of the daddies who have touched my life.

Gramps was a wonderful man with a unique sense of humor.  He chased Hambone and me around his house, demanding "Who's gah mah heef?" while hiding his dentures and pretending that one of us had stolen them.  When my wonderful uncle, who happens to be gay, went to hug him one night, Gramps didn't skip a beat before backing away incredulously and proclaiming, "I'm just not like that."  Nothing Gramps did was ever offensive, and everyone who ever met the man loved him from the start.  He just had a way about him.  This wonderful man taught me many things, one of the most memorable being the proper way to say, "Shut up pig.  May God strike you dead up the ass with a lightning bolt," in Polish.  Sadly, I only remember "Shut up pig."  He loved my grandmother so truly, so fully, that there was never any question.  It was always buzzing around him like magic.  Their song was "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," and it still brings a tear to my every time I hear it.  He nicknamed me Daisy after the song, "Bicycle Built for Two."  He was a very, very special man, one whom I will never forget.

A, my brother-in-law, well...what can I say?  He's absolutely perfect for Jello, and they have the most amazing little girl in K-Bear, not to mention the fact that another little bundle of joy is going to be joining us in a couple of months.  I've never seen Jello this happy, and that is sayin' something, since she's a glass-is-half-full kind of gal like me.  To see A's eyes light up with his wife and daugher is truly amazing.  He's taught me that things don't always turn out the way we plan, and that's okay, because someone out there is looking out for our best interests.  JAK are living proof of this.

The Hubbs.  I could sing his praises for years if I didn't rein myself in.  The love of my life has taught me that it's okay for us to remain kids, even with a kiddo of our own.  He's silly with me, and he puts up with my shit (of which there is a lot).  That, in itself, is enough to nominate the man for sainthood.  I love you, Swatta, with every little piece of my heart.

Unc, my mom's brother, never had kids of his own, but he was like an extra dad to us growing up.  Hambone and I have lots of wonderful memories from sleeping over at his house and taking joint vacations.  He even taught Hambone how to pretend he was sleeping on the road to creep out other drivers on the way to our family vacation spot one time.  That was priceless!  Even more than his honorary status with Hambone and me, I am amazed by the relationship he's forged with his stepsons.  At the wedding of his oldest stepson, Eric, he was ambushed with a wonderful tribute: Brad Paisley's "He Didn't Have to Be."  This song is a tearjerker of the best kind, and a testament to the fact that Unc was always meant to be a dad.  He took me to my first-ever Charlie Daniels concert at the Boone County Fair when I was ten years old, and I had to wear two mismatched shoes, because I couldn't find a pair.  We sat in the third row, and I've never been the same since.  To date, I've seen CDB 16 more times, and I hope to increase that number if at all possible.  More than anything, Unc taught me that a person doesn't have to be a biological father in order to be a daddy.

The Hubbs' grandfather is an amazing person.  He has been head-over-heels in love with his wife for a lifetime, and they complement each other perfectly.  Gramp N has welcomed me into his extended family with open arms, and I've been dubbed "Pumpkiness" to The Hubbs' "Pumpkin."  (The Princess is "Pumpkin Seed," in case anyone is wondering.)  This wonderful man has shown me that it is possible for love to last a lifetime, and that the biggest secret to marriage is that partners must also be best friends.  Oh, and he's also made it quite obvious that Norwegians tend to exaggerate just a bit.  :)

The Hubbs' daddy, who we've dubbed "Grampy," is one of the most genuinely kind people I've ever met in my life.  He and Nana married while in high school, and they're still going strong.  The love between them is amazingly pure, and it really is a sight to behold.  His kids have so many wonderful memories from their childhoods that express his gentleness and caring, but this one stands out the most: When Jello was getting ready for a gymnastics meet, Nana was too busy to French braid her hair.  She asked Grampy to help her out, and he did.  He was so afraid of pulling her hair that he managed to produce the loosest French braid in history, and if my memory serves me correctly, I believe it lasted all of about five minutes before self-destructing.  This man is quiet, gentle, sincere, and real.  And the oldest of seven children.  He's taught me many things, among which are what The Hubbs will look like in twenty or so years, and the fact that there really is someone in the world who can eat faster than The Hubbs. 

Pop, I've put you through so damned much that I'm amazed you can still even stand to look at me.  Rinky and the blut search.  Danville and the incessant jabbering.  Dropping that Tonka truck on Hambone's head (okay, that was funny.  And totally called-for.).  Dragging you down to the lake or the pond after you were exhausted from work, only to make you throw me, row me around in the boat, or help me to clear an ice skating rink.  Hambone and I ambushed you and Harv with water balloons from the roof on your way in after work.  The Pink Milk Incident.  My four-year stretch of utter stupidity.  Karaoke until all hours of the night, on days when we both had to be up at five the next morning for work.  Screaming and asking Momma who that weird man was that one time you shaved off your mustache.  Saran-wrapping the toilet that one April Fool's Day.  Fish on!  How about rebuilding my 1980 Omni with the Rabbit motor?  That was fun...  I could go on forever, and I probably will...just not here.  You, and you alone, provided me with my personal image of what a daddy should be.  You are hilarious; everyone you've ever met can attest to that.  But there are so many other sides to you.  I'm so lucky to be your kid, because I get to see the way you smile when The Princess climbs into your lap.  I, and I alone, got to hear your Wizard reference at my wedding rehearsal.  The memory of that goofiness made all my nerves melt away as you and I stood in the narthex, preparing to walk down the aisle where you handed me over to The Hubbs.  You took me out by the bluffs on Norfork and sat there for hours, patiently explaining the proper way to suck air into my lungs for the optimum belch.  You laughed with me until we both cried when I finally got one to echo off those bluffs at twilight.  You've taught me that daddies are funny and sweet, but tough when they have to be.  But, most of all, you've taught me to get out there and be me.  I've long thought that nothing in the world could ever change you, and I hope to hell that's true.  I wouldn't change a thing about you, Pop.  You're perfect just the way you are, buzz cut and all (oh, yeah, Momma...I went there).

If I was to list every daddy who had ever touched my life, this post would go on forever.  As it is, I've gotten all gushy and long-winded, so I think I'll have to stop the specific list here.

To all of you daddies out there, those who I've named as well as those who I haven't, you're an amazing bunch.  Without you, the world would be a dimmer place, and we're lucky to have you in our lives.  I wish each and every one of you a belated but heartfelt Happy Father's Day.