My Dad wasn”t a fisherman, a hunter, a mechanic. He didn’t prefer to wrestle or play football. The only time I saw his poker face was when he was trying to figure out if he was going to believe the lie I was telling him. My Dad enjoyed watching the Cubs, Crocodile Dundee, and Andy Griffith. The only time he turned on ESPN was to watch PBA Bowling so he could get the curve technique of Pete Weber (this would pay off years into the future when they invented Wii Bowling.)
For all the things he wasn’t, I was reminded today with a flood of memories and tears of the things he was.
As a boy, I was a professional basketball player for the Chicago Bulls. (put that in the file labeled “things you didn’t know was possible”)
I remember playing for some time and my father rolling into the driveway. He went inside like most days, except this time I heard the back door open. Out he came in his white collar swag to make an appearance at the United Center a.k.a. my driveway. I had hoped he noticed my likeness to number 23, but I settled for the time we shared together.
Being a father now, I can appreciate the effort it took him to come home from a hard day of work and not go straight to bed. It takes a selfless act to get involved in a game of H.O.R.S.E. with a boy who thinks he’s Michael Jordan.
My father was also a great artist. I can recall getting up in his lap and watching him draw my face as a cartoon character. I would get to pick what my body was doing and it usually involved having giant muscles. When I wasn’t wanting to be like Mike, I drew pictures. My favorite tool is a wooden pencil with fresh shavings like a scene from McGee & Me (see: wall-mounted pencil sharpener, 1987). I wanted to be a great artist like my Dad. Later in life (middle school) we began practicing our signatures together. All three of us boys have a similar version of Dad’s signature still to this day.
My father was also a preacher. He could stand before anyone and speak about the gospel. I got to witness this on many occasions as a boy. Unfortunately, it came in between southern gospel songs, but nonetheless he preached from the Word. I want to be a preacher one day. I don’t know in what capacity at the moment, but I know it’s buried deep within my heart.
And I know where it comes from. Facetime with my Father(s).