For Father's Day, I was thinking of renting a Luxury Winnebago and visiting all of my daddy's favorite hang-outs. The restaurants and movie theaters he loved so much. But then I realized I didn't need a Luxury Winnego to do that. Plus, chances are my feet wouldn't touch the pedals, a lifelong issue. I might as well stick to my own car, full of dog hair and a few items I still can't identify. Crumpled Kleenex? Protein bar wrapper? Hard to say. So today, on my way over to the Westside, I'll drive past his number one favorite hang-out, maybe even park in front. Cuz I'm pretty sure they won't let me in, unless I pretend to be a UPS driver with an important delivery. At this point, all I can deliver are sweet memories of my dad in his condo, where he felt most at home. He'd sit at his computer for hours or watch TV and doze off. Or linger in the kitchen, drinking his hot black coffee and reading the newspaper. No question, he was happiest at home, where no one bothered him. He was never bored. Never boring. Although he might disagree. There was the one time at the very end, when he said, "Sorry I'm so boring." Daddy, you were never boring. You were interested in everything. You never stopped wanting to learn. It didn't matter the topic, cooking corned beef or fixing a leak, you wanted to tackle it and wouldn't give up until you did. Wherever you are, I'm sure of one thing. You're reading a great book and can't wait to start the next one.
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