…for coming to my high school basketball games and yelling almost as loud as mom.
…for pretending you liked Wile E. Coyote as much as we thought you did.
…for hating to discipline us, but loving us enough to do it anyway.
…for insisting that the guy selling you the used car fill out the proper sale amount on the paperwork, even though he was trying to do you a favor by reducing it. You didn’t believe in favors unless they involved integrity.
…for loving Tim Conway.
…for teaching summer school so many years in a row because we needed the money. In case you wondered if anyone noticed besides mom, we did.
…for going to college.
…for saying "bollocks" and "aaaaaaargh!" and "ghe-mi-ga-shu-maaaaahhhhhh!" When you were mad, usually while working on cars, instead of…other things.
…for the killer song machine you gave me for my 21st birthday, and for drilling a hole in the dashboard to install it so it could be heard effectively throughout my college town.
…for always wanting to do the right thing.
…for being the kind of high school biology teacher that never ate out, and instead ate in his classroom with the doors open for any students who might need a listening ear or just a place to go.
...for thinking that $15 for a shirt is a ripoff.
…for leading a group of family and friends in a rousing rendition of “I’m A Yankee Doodle Dandee” in the airport with banjos and red, white & blue Styrofoam hats when coming to pick me up after my first airpline flight, which fell on the fourth of July. (For those of you who know me, but not my father, does this help explain things?)
…for regularly telling us that you loved us. We could always tell when you’d had a particularly hard night in the Bishop’s office. You would walk in the door, half hunched over with strain written into your forehead and interrupt “Knight Rider” to make sure we knew it. We did. We do. I love you too Dad. Happy Father’s Day.