A Good Man in a Storm

“Love ooo” the words my father says to me as I leave the house every day. We have a script, a rhythm, the type of communication that only happens when two people are so very alike.

“Is (the friend you saw today) still silly?” He asks whenever I come home. He asks this about every one of my friends, if your name has been mentioned in my house, my father has asked that question about you. He wants to know, he genuinely wants to know that the people I surround myself with are not only supportive and good friends, but also do not take themselves too seriously. Through all the struggles he has experienced in his life, he has held on to “silly”. He has held on to some of the childlike wonder that most adults let go decades before their late sixties.

My dad is a unique guy. He’s a devout Catholic, who loves his heathen children with all of his immense heart. He did not blink an eye when I came out to my parents either time. Neither of them did. While the whole non-binary thing was hard to wrap his head around he still makes all the effort in the world. In fact, from what I know about Christianity (which is admittedly kind of limited) my father acts closer to that Jesus guy than most.

I have walked in on my father listening to leftist podcasts that I hadn’t even heard of. Once I came home from a long day at work and I hear “remember kids a sword is a portable guillotine”. He is a man full of surprises.

He has taught me that doing the fun thing is usually the best thing. Doing the ridiculous thing is going to give you the best story. When The Who’s Tommy came to America the first time, a classic rock station was offering second row tickets and back stage passes to whoever offered to do the craziest thing. My dad called them up and told them he would listen to Barry Manilow for twenty four hours. The station brought him in, he listened to Barry Manilow for twenty four hours. That show ended up being one of my parents earlier dates. I do believe my mom was more impressed with my dad than the show. “It was very loud and there was a lot of walking”. She’s definitely more of a folk music in a Unitarian church kind of listener, which I am 100% behind.

My father has seen our family through some of the hardest times imaginable. He has always and will always be a rock. Through health crises both mental and physical. Through losing our house in 2008, through an attempted suicide on my part when I was in college. He never let up. He never wavered in his support of me or my mom or my younger sister. I know he often blamed himself back then for the house in particular. I also know not one of us in the family blamed him.

He is an artist and an architect, he gets super excited about sustainability in building. He wishes he could go visit the great buildings of the world. He has an appreciation for music and a brain full of facts about everyone from Joni Mitchell, to Bruce Springsteen, to Fleetwood Mac.

He has given me an example and incredibly high standards for the men I keep in my life. I am endlessly proud of him, I admire him, he has shaped the way that I live my life. He has taught me that authenticity is more important than popularity. He taught me that unhindered joy can still be experienced even in the darkest of times.

Every time we go to the ocean, since I can remember whether it’s together or individually as I got older. He taught me the tradition of blowing a kiss to the ocean, and waiting for it to blow a kiss back. Every part of what he taught me growing up was how to respect people, things, the environment.

He still showers me with bad dad jokes, and the occasional confusing lecture on various obscure historical topics. He has taught me that love is unconditional, and honor and honestly are the most important things.

He is an enigma, a beautiful man, a good man in a storm. An artist. Loyal, and he loves his family. I couldn’t have asked for a better dad.

He’s taken what the world has thrown at him, what the world has thrown at our family, and still managed to make us smile. To find a way in his darkest days to still brighten ours.