Father's Day

I am one of those disgusting people who is blessed with wonderful parents, and is able to call them friends. They've supported me in everything I do, and had my back at all times (you go, Mom!). I try not to brag too much about them, because it's all luck, really. But today is a day for some bragging.

It is a beautiful day for Father's Day, pleasant and non-raining (!), and the square is quiet, the breeze carrying the voices away. I am natually reminded of last summer, when I persuaded my father to join me abroad for a week. We rode around town on bikes, and went to the markt, and sat out at the cafe drinking beer and talking with friends. And we traveled -- took the ICE, and saw castle in Heidelberg, and did the various touristy things. It was wonderful, and I am, as always, awed and grateful that I have the relationship with my Dad that allows that.

I cannot think of a time when I've called my Dad "Father" -- it's always Dad, Daddy, or Pop, the latter arising from a long tradition of stuffed animals given to me "From Pop" which are now called "Pop Gifts" and required for every holiday. When I die, it will take months to go through the fuzzy things. From skipping the beginning of grade school on random mornigs to go have waffles with strawberries and whipped cream together, to watching "Real Genius" (he can recite all the lines, too, as can my Mom, which is a bit scary when you think about it), to museum hopping in various towns, to wandering around Germany, I have a montage of times with my Dad that I wouldn't trade for anything. His belief in me and support of me in everything I do has made it possible for me to become the person I am, and it is possible that I'm the luckiest person on earth.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.