Merry Death

Christmas Gift for Dad

This year my father asked my sister and I to forgo the gifts in lieu of each of us writing on a topic of his choosing. He has always thought that my sister and I (she more than I, I suspect) were gifted writers. Not by New Yorker standards, but in general, we aren't dummies.

The topic he gave me is a typical one "Anyone can be a mother, but what does being a Mom mean to you?". I have my reasons, I suppose. I have thought about this for a few weeks and am still trying to figure out how to approach it. I seem to get ideas while doing all my mundane tasks like ironing and driving to Target. By the time I sit in front on the computer....blank. I really need a notebook.

The funny part about all of this is the fact that I have been bothering my dad for months to do blog. I think he has many stories to tell. He loves a good anecdote. He tells me the same stories over and over and they never get old. I love to hear the boyhood experiences he shares and the stories of the characters he has met in the local neighborhood bar.

My dad is a wonderful man who never misses an opportunity to talk to someone new. Not in the way that old men do on planes and in lines, but at a bar or at a restaurant, my Dad is the one who would approach another regular customer with "Hi, Dave White. I notice you are quite the regular face here". From there, Dad and this person would share stories, my father in turn telling me the better ones.

I will convince him one day to return his gift to me by telling me what being a Dad has meant to him. That'll show him.

posted by Metalmeredith @ 7:54 PM