So, to both of my parents: Thanks for being my parents. It’s not like I had a lot of choice in the matter. But all things considered, what with the random assignment of genetic information and luck of the draw etc. I think things worked out pretty well.
I was born in 1964. Despite the fact I grew up during a few decades of major change, right on the cusp of the Vietnam War, women’s rights, with hippies to the left and Nixon to the right, and then the 80’s with Madonna and preppies and high school and college, my parents managed to provide a relatively quiet and stable existence for us. There were fun adventures and interesting experiences. We had stuff like bikes and pools and dogs and even a canoe when I came home from summer camp raving about how much I loved to canoe.
From my dad I learned things like loving to garden, the value of regular maintenance on my car, and how to wash a car correctly.
From my mother, I learned the art of problem solving, the value of laughing until I can’t stand up and to love reference books.
Those are not extensive lists by any means, but they are the items I feel like mentioning today.
I also say Happy Father’s Day to the Bob. You are a great dad. If I had to get knocked up by accident and raise a child with someone, I am glad it was you. You are funny and kind and you didn’t mind getting up in the middle of the night with Cooper when he was in that phase of his life. You walk the dogs in all manner of weather and are a mighty fine painter of rooms. You appreciate my cooking and baking efforts. You are a keeper.