Now that Father’s Day is over, I’m gonna give you the real lowdown on good dads.
Good dads give you a corsage for the dance when you don’t have a date.
Good dads carry your crap up stairs into un-air-conditioned dorm rooms in August. And put together your shelves. Like a boss.
Good dads make you laugh.
And good dads teach you new words.
Now, my dad is a wordsmith, but not in a traditional sense.
The man can cuss.
My brother and I learned all kinds of vocabulary anytime there was a project of the home-improvement nature. Words were linked together to create magical new meanings, some of which I still don’t understand. What, exactly, does “Jiminey Christmas” mean, anyway?
I still don’t know. But I learned this: Words have power.
I was lucky enough to grow up in a family that valued a good story. You could get away with just about anything if you could spin it into a captivating – and preferably funny – tale.
Words have power.
For me, words gave me the power to do something with my life besides live in my parents’ basement. So, even if my dad thought he was just having words with a window screen, or entertaining his kids with a very detailed story about how garbanzo beans come from The Valley of Garbonz? He was teaching us the power of words.
Well, and he was ensuring that I would eventually move out and become a writer.
I’m forever grateful. Besides, my other major life skill is making grilled-cheese sandwiches, and it’s rough going making a living just serving up Kraft slices on wheat. Writing is much better.