I have never really thanked my dad for being such a good dad these past 22 years. Now that he has Parkinson's, and just had a stroke and heart attack recently, I don't really know if I will ever get to thank him as well as he deserves. He took on the role of my mom when she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and myositis and really stepped up after she passed away. He was this big scary ex-Marine and then he became Mr. Mom, giving Vin Diesel in the Pacifier a run for his money. Here's to you, Bubba.

Thanks dad, for teaching me feminism from childhood. (And also not branding it feminism.)

I know that really wasn’t his intent, just a by-product of raising me in a way that by today's terms would be considered “gender-neutral” or “gender-fluid”. He never let me take shit from people for liking rugby, stripe sweaters, and Converse, or wanting to go into stereotypical man’s career, or for playing brute sports like hockey and rugby. He thought the idea of letting your bf drive your truck because "the man always drives" rule thing was bullshit.

Thanks dad, for not letting mom name me *that* name.

No offense to all the Joys, and Demis and Katherines out there, but I don’t think I they fit my personality very well. Even though mom eventually overruled him on the bleghh first name I got, he gave me the best name middle name ever and it totally fits me.

Thanks dad, for never treating me like the rebound kid.

Until recently, I never felt, or even knew for that matter, that I was conceived to make up for the fact my mom had a miscarriage really late into the pregnancy, just a year before I was born, and I appreciate that I never felt second rate.

Thanks dad, for teaching me that you can be both a jock and a smart person.

I hate the word "nerd", so I am using the term "smart person." I grew up thinking both my parents were hippies. They were always taking pictures and doing environmental things and talking archaeology. Turns out they were both hardcore multisport athletes back in their prime, my dad being an alternate for the Olympic weightlifting team back in the 80’s. My dad always pushed me to do my work and be smart but also kick ass at every sport I played too.

Thanks dad, for not letting me be a quitter.

My dad would never let me quit when I was feeling sorry for myself. He always told me that I can't let one second of feeling bad turn into a lifetime of feeling bad, and that's exactly what would happen if I ever quit when I felt a millisecond of doubt. My dad was a kickass weightlifter, projected to easily qualify first for the Seoul Olympics. He got really sick and weak with pneumonia before the qualifiers AND STILL PARTICIPATED. He didn't do so well, but he said better to have gone and been an alternate than have stayed home and forever wondered.

Thanks dad, for teaching me to be humble.

To be completely honest, it was one of my dad's relatives that told me that story and I thought they were BSing me. So I asked my dad about it after and he said yeah, it was completely true. He just never talked about it because it's always good to be humble. That's completely true about my dad though. He has all these certificates and awards hanging around the house talking about all these great things he's accomplished, but it's not there to show off to other people, it's there as a reminder to himself that you can always be better.

Thanks dad, for letting me make my own choices, even though you hated them.

My dad thought me being a Sports Management major was a waste of time, and I don’t blame him. From his point of view, the world wasn’t ready for a girl to be the GM of the Yankees, and he didn’t want me to be crushed. He let me do it though, and was there with me every step of the way.

Thanks dad, for doing things other kids’ moms would do.

I appreciate you driving a minivan and picking me up from school like a soccer mom. I appreciate you making me breakfast and lunch every day for me when I was little. I appreciate you trying to braid my hair using sailors knots. I appreciate you going with me to pick out my prom dress even though we were both hella uncomfortable. I’ll forever appreciate our mutual freak outs every time we saw a spider in the house.

Thanks dad, for not being mushy.

I really don’t think I could have handled it if you were one of those dads that called me his princess or angel or other weird terms of endearment. I really don’t think I could have handled it if you and mom had PDA sessions cuz like, eww.

Thanks dad, for teaching me how to cook.

Ok, well, technically mom taught me how to cook, but you taught me how NOT to cook. You taught me to never put a flaming hot grilled cheese on a styrofoam plate. You taught me to always STAND BY YOUR PAN by singing Tammy Wynette in the kitchen.

Thanks dad, for teaching me how to fight.

Most people would think this is a terrible quality to teach their kids, but my dad did it anyway. He taught me how to wrestle and with my dad being super competitive, he was never the kind of person to just let you win. So, you had to learn how to wrestle and be really good at it because otherwise you were put in the sleeper hold and would wake up two hours later to orange juice and strawberry wafer cookies. Then he taught me how to throw a good punch, which in hindsight might not have been such a smart idea.

Thanks dad, for teaching me how to sparkle.

This is not some cheesy inspirational quote. One time when I was eight, my dad and I were playing nerf basketball in the house. We were jumping on the bed and he knocked over this container of glitter all over me and it got in my eye and hurt like a motherfucker. I had to go to my hockey game covered in glitter and I was embarrassed. He told me to basically sack up and put my helmet on, because when you win, nobody cares what you look like.

Thanks dad, for taking me shopping.

My dad is a shopaholic. No, really though. So, I got my shopping habit from him, without a doubt. He took me on shopping trips to outlet malls all the time. I know that’s typically a mom thing, but no, my dad was so into it. We had annual trips to Pennsylvania, where we would do five days of outlet shopping in a row.

Thanks dad, for teaching me how to apply makeup.

Ok, so maybe I didn’t learn how to use the Naked palettes from my dad, but my first introduction to makeup was from my dad. My mom was so anti-makeup and pro-natural beauty that she never kept makeup in the house. My dad was the one who took me to buy foundation and powder when I was 11 to cover my black eye (this is where the teaching me to fight thing became a problem) for picture day. He also was the one who taught me how to put on eye black.

Thanks dad, for the vast taste in music.

From 50’s Doo-wop, 80’s glam rock, country gold to 70’s punk, my dad introduced me to killer good music growing up. My dad loved Roy Orbison and Garth Brooks, but also the Ramones and Sex Pistols, Cinderella, Chubby Checker and the Shirelles. My dad is a scary quiet, like Vito Corleone, so when he starts blasting music in the car during traffic jams, you kind of just look at him, like “whaaaaaa?????” To make matters worse, his go-to for car tunes is by Celine Dion. He may be a normally quiet guy, but he’s a belter.

Thanks dad, for teaching me not to trust the police.

My dad was a cop for a long time, but after getting tired of how corrupt the force was, he quit to go into environmental conservation. In his words, “Better poison ivy than getting shot in the back by your own partner.” “Better plants than planted drugs.” “First, they steal your donuts and then they steal a pound of coke from evidence.” I appreciate the lessons he taught me about not trusting a system meant to help you and then being blindsided by it.

Thanks dad, for buying me dolls.

I mean “action figures.” Don’t worry, I actually had Barbies too, but my favorites were the talking GI Joes my dad liked to buy for me.

Thanks dad, for the romantic comedies and emotional dramas you watched with me.

I will forever appreciate getting to spend quality time with my dad watching emotional dramatic movies like "Windtalkers,' and romantic comedies like "Top Gun." The love Maverick had for flying was a love unrivaled. I’m just kidding, I was totally Team Iceman.

Thanks dad, for weeding out the loser guys.

I was always a tomboy with a bunch of guy friends, so when I brought them over, my dad got a little riled up to say the least. He always showed off his gun and knife collection almost in a threatening manner, til I told him they were just friends. He would then get really enthusiastic about showing off his collection. Word got around my dad was pretty much Rambo, and now only the really serious guys are willing to come meet my dad.

Thanks dad, for keeping cool when I fucked up your car.

No, really, I told you my dad has a tendency to be scary, but he kept his cool.

Thanks dad, for pretending to be angry when I skipped class.

I skipped a lot of class in high school, and the school has an automated system that calls home to tell you which classes were missed. They pretty much called every day. My dad would always step to me like, “wtf!”, and would pretend to be angry, tell me to do better, but then we would both laugh it off.

Thanks dad, for loving all the same sports teams as me.

My dad is a peculiar character. He loves sports but was always moving around base to base, getting deployed, etc. so he never really had a team to get behind. He would watch football every Sunday and hockey like, all the time and just pick who was cheering for that day in the moment. Guess that changed a bit when I came along like, “Dad, you now love the NY Giants, the Pittsburgh Penguins, the Toronto Blue Jays, the Boston Celtics and Chelsea.” Now he’s hardcore into them too.

Thanks dad, for pretending you knew about rugby.

My dad would have been ecstatic if I played football, but instead I gravitated toward rugby. He learned all he could through TSN and Sportsnet World and helped me train and get better. I told him he didn’t have to do that, but he was so into it after a while, I couldn’t bear to tell him I didn’t need the help.

Thanks dad, for buying me my first beer. Even if you didn’t know you did it.

Thanks dad, for always funding my excursions out with friends, is what I should say. He would always give me money to go chill with my friends on the weekends, and well, we liked to drink. He always said he would buy me my first drink when I turned 19. Things just happened a good four years earlier.

Thanks dad, for always being proud of me.

No matter what stupid things I did. No matter how much trouble I got into. Thanks dad, I love you.