My Dad was not really a wine drinker per se, but he taught me the finer points of scotch and how to make a great whiskey sour.
After I moved to California my Dad called me every morning around 7am just for a quick hello, or to tell me something funny and to say he loved me. The calls rarely lasted more than 65 seconds.
Then one morning I got a call and he said, “If anything ever happens to me I want you to know I love you very much.” “I know Dad,” I said. “I love you too.”
A few hours later my Mom called to say my Dad had had a stroke. He was only 67.
Weather the stroke was caused by stress, smoking, or years of living with my mother is up to debate. (Mom was quite a character.)
My dad did not live to see the Internet age fully realized. But he would have loved email and even more than that he would have loved Twitter--Quick, Sharp, and to the point. Just like my Dad.
My dad was the coolest guy in the world. He was fun and smart with a wit so sharp it could draw blood. Things were never dull or boring when my dad was around. He could turn the most mundane tasks or experiences into laugh-a-thons.
When I was twelve I went on a whirlwind tour of Europe with my parents and my fondest memories are about my Dad and how much we laughed on that trip. At a tiny hotel in Genoa we found a violin had been left behind in the room and my Dad took it down to the front desk where by some crazy translation misunderstanding they thought he wanted to perform for them. So he gave me a wink and he took the thing out of it’s case and gave it a go. And as he was coaxing the most god awful and tortuous sounds from the instrument, the actual owner walked in to see if his violin had turned up. Suffice to say the looks exchanged all around were priceless. We checked out shortly thereafter.
I have so many memories and stories about my Dad I could fill volumes. I should start a regular feature and add a piece about my Dad each month. He certainly deserves it.
Happy Fathers Day Dad, and wherever you are, I know everyone is in stitches.