It’s Dad day, which is a good day for me, since I happen to have lucked into having pretty much the coolest Dad ever. So when other people are half-heartedly sucking up to their progenitors, I am filled with the glow of non-hypocrisy on an officially hypocritical Hallmark Holiday.
Because my Dad rocks.
Yeah, he left us when I was an early teen, and I suppose he could have done it with a little more finesse. But honestly? When you are experiencing a major personal meltdown, finesse is nobody’s strong point. My dad and I had a reconciliation when I was about eighteen years old, and I had an epiphany that led me to realize that he did the right thing by striking out on his own, and I told him so.
I said, Dad, I think you did the right thing. By leaving. I hope I would have done the same thing.
This was a bit of a turning point in our relationship.
Dad is a blues DJ in Provincetown, and enjoys a certain renown in these parts. He’s the sort of DJ who speaks quietly, calmly, and infrequently, allowing the music to speak for itself. And for him, I suppose.
We all have to have the blues. Some just do it with a certain… finesse that I truly hope to have inherited.