Dear Pa, I Still Don't Get It

Today is Father's Day and if there is anything I've learned from my (almost) two years of living here in Germany, it's how much I appreciate and miss my Pops. This blog is for him.

Let's keep it real by saying that things growing up were not always picturesque...but the older I get the more I realize how impossible it is to have a "perfect family." Let's just say my family puts the "fun" in "dysfunctional" and I am very satisfied with mine.

Let's start from the very beginning. To this day, I still don't get why God chose me out of all 4 of your kids to be your doppelganger (another German word we stole). Wouldn't it make more sense for a son to grow up being the spitting image of his dad? Ever since I was little, family members and friends of the family would call me "Lil' Lenny." It was always creepy hearing that if I "only had a mustache" I would be just like you. Today, I carry this title with pride. I am slightly more impartial to little girls that look like their dads too these days. If I see one at the store, I give her a quick wink. If I care for a baby girl at work that looks like her dad...I give her extra sweetease/sugar water (jk). I like to think there is a special place in heaven for all the daddy's girl look-a-likes. 

I still don't get how you are able to do, fix, and repair everything. I know a lot of children think this of their fathers but I'm serious people...the man can fix anything! But where does all this random knowledge and skill come from? In my eyes, it was simply always there. You know your dad's a handyman when one of your baby brother's first sentences is: "Dad'll fik it!" - "Dad will fix it!" When one of our toys broke "Dad'll fik it!"  If our bike got a flat tire "Dad'll fik it!" or even if someone broke a glass in the kitchen, he'd yell "It's ok! Dad'll fik it!"

I knew things were going to hell in a hand basket with you and mom the day I saw a repairman in our kitchen. In all my years of life we never called a repairman, plumber, electrician, cable man, mechanic, lawn or construction company, etc. etc. etc. I harbor a secret hatred for repairmen because it means my dad is missing. I'm sure the unsuspecting repairman that day felt my stare bore through him with all the intensity of "...and what are you doing here?"

I'm just going to dab on this subject because it needs said. I mean it with the utmost respect too...I still don't get how you didn't commit homicide after being with mom for so many years. Let's be honest everyone...everyone!...she's not the easiest of people to live with. I made it to around the 18 year mark and things started getting blurry. We can cohabit for about 2 weeks before our strong personalities start to collide.  (Mom, you know I'm right, and I love you still!) Dad, you've been dealing with and loving this woman for many more years than us kids and it needs to be acknowledged and applauded. Congratulations on avoiding 25-life.

I think I need to quote our good family friend Ani Difranco here:

Growing up it was just me and my mom

against the world

and all my sympathies were with her

when I was a little girl

But now I've seen both my parents

play out the hands they were dealt

and as each year goes by

I know more about how my father must have felt

I just want you to understand

that I know what all the fighting was for

and I just want you to understand

that I'm not angry anymore

Growing up I think kids naturally side with their moms but as I get older I recognize a lot of the struggles my dad must have gone through during the divorce too. Although I believe in my heart that my parents could have tried a little harder, I am aware of the pain that both sides feel as a family breaks apart.

Hey Pops, I still don't get how you were able to take us fishing all those times and year after year. You were only able to get your line in the water for probably a total of 10 minutes because you were busy baiting our hooks, retrieving our snagged lures, untangling our lines from each others/the motor (Bronson!), taking fish off our line, getting bobbers from trees, and breaking up fist fights...all while steering the boat. Ok, maybe I get how you took us, but the fact that you didn't throw us overboard and leave us to drown in Crystal Lake is amazing. That's not to say we didn't come back unharmed. We knew going out with dad meant bumps, bruises, scratches, or an occasional stick up the nose :(... The drive home was always capped off with a "Don't tell mom..." "Don't tell mom Brandon fell in the lake again." "Don't tell mom we went to McDonald's." You put up with a lot of crap...no, literally...remember when Bronson crapped himself at Sonny's Bait Shop in Bessemer? ::sigh:: Good times, Pops. Good times. Thanks.

I still don't get why I was the one to go to work with you every summer. Even though you have two sons, I was the one up on the roof with you a majority of the time. I think Julie and I put way more time in roofin' than Brandon and Bronson. Seems a bit backwards doesn't it? Thanks to you I know how to tear a roof, install drip edge, cut caps, lay shingles, and side a house. I feel as comfortable with a nail gun as I do with a curling iron. I'm as nimble as a cat on a 12/12 pitch roof and can climb ladders like a champ. Every day we went to work together you would introduce me to the home owner and tell them that you were teaching me how important it is to go to college. I get that now. Although I miss working outside sometimes, manual labor is hard work. The fact that you've done it your whole life is admirable and the dignity you taught me that comes with a job well done will stay with me forever.

 (Just roofin' our shed, no big deal.)

 (That's a Blow Pop, not a cig, so chill.)

 Proud!

(Roofin' the dog house with the extra material.)

Everything I know about classic rock, I owe to my pops. I can proudly say that my first concert wasn't N*Sync, Backstreet Boys, or 98 degrees...but rather Aerosmith with my father! I knew that when I came home and Van Halen or Styx was playing...it was cleaning time. My dad still quizzes me when songs come on the radio - "Who 'dis?" or as he reaches for the radio knob to turn it up -"For fitty!" which means - "I'll give you 50 bucks if you know who sings this song." Of course, he doesn't follow through with the bet but seeing his face light up when I get the singer/group/song title correct is worth way more than 50 bucks. Thanks to him, I can sing along to almost every Lynyrd Skynyrd, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Journey, Pink Floyd, Queen, Eagles, etc. etc. etc song...all the while being accompanied by Lenny B. to my left on the air guitar and steering wheel drums!

I won all my street fights thanks to my dad. From an early age we wrestled. You vs. Me, Brandon, and Bronson. I remember you picking me up by my ears and laughing. You would lift us up with one hand and squish us against the ceiling! Your classic finisher...dragging us by our toes. All the while, mom screaming from upstairs "Be easy, Lenny! You'll hurt them!" And she was right, one of us usually ended up crying...but we're tougher for it! To this day, I can't walk past my dad sitting on the couch without him sticking his leg out last second trying to trip me. It's weird but I've come to expect it. Thanks to you, I have ninja-like reflexes (not really). What other father gifts their daughter with a switch blade? How about pepper spray or a taser for Christmas? What kind of dad tells their daughter if they don't have access to brass knuckles to grip a roll of quarters or a flat stone? I know where all the pressure points are in the human body. If you heard "I'm going for the jugular!" at our house you had about a 0.3 second window to block yourself from being choked. Normal or not normal? Normal, people!

I still don't get how you absorb and remember any random slang term I ever used. I can use something only once and you will use it properly in a sentence the next day and three years later.

-"Hey, dad! Whatcha' doin'"

-"Oh, nothin'. Just sippin' on some sizzurp."

-"How was the wedding last night, dad?"

-"Fine. Everyone was Patrick Schwasted."

-"Are you going fishing with Uncle Steve this weekend?"

-"For shizzle my nizzle."

-"What did you get at the store?"

-"Bitches, blunts and fo'ties..::pause::...JAY KAY!"

Thanks for trying to stay up with the times. Your attempts at staying up-to-date always make me giggle. It's still funny to me that you were the first one in the family to get a smart phone...

And last but not least...I still don't get how you let me move away. I guess the joke's on you because you made me go on the family vacation trip to Mexico when I met Eddie. Were you already sweating a little when I told you I wanted to go and visit him the first time? How hard was it to let me fly across the world to visit a family you didn't even know? How hard was it walking me down the aisle? Was it weird knowing that at the end of the aisle waited a man that was going to take me 5,000 miles away from you? What does it feel like to be the one to drive me to the airport to leave for good...not knowing when you'll see me again? If it feels anything like it does on this side of it...it hurts and it aches. I wish I could be with you on this day to celebrate and every day. I'm sure you take small comfort in knowing that I am safe and happy with Eddie now too.

"Alles Gute zum Vatertag!"

...to all the daddies out there all the way from Germany! I also pray to the Lord that this will be Eddie's last Father's Day as just a son/grandson.

 I love you, Pops!