It’s a universal truth that we, as human beings, are forever indebted to our mothers who carried us, laid cold washcloths on our tiny fever-infested faces, dealt with us during our teenage phase, made us eat broccoli, and dished out some real good advice throughout our college years.
My mom is my best friend and I’m confident that she knows how grateful I am for all that she’s done for me. My dad, on the other hand, isn’t as likely to sit down for a conversation as emotional as one between me and my mother, but he certainly deserves as much praise, so this one’s for you, Michael Freakin’ Donohue: purveyor of the sweetest music and the most “b*tchin’” shoes.
Picture this: it’s father’s day and you’re standing in front of a gift display at your local department store trying to figure out what to get your dad. Grilling tools? No, my mom is the one who barbecues, in fact, she recently bought herself an outdoor smoking contraption and its accompanying cookbook. Sports apparel? No, my dad despises all things sports; my mom is the one who watches Packers games on the TV and carries around a radio to make sure she’s getting all the details. Hunting gear? No, my dad only sets traps for villains that eat his plants in the garden. A light-hearted, comedic recent blockbuster? No, my dad adores Allens and Kubricks. A remastered Beatles CD? My dad’s favorite playlist is one he titled “Damn Friday” and it's an amalgamation of punk music and glam rock. I’ve never, in my entire life, seen my dad eat a steak or watch any sport of any kind.
And I think that’s my favorite thing about him.
I love that I’ve grown up in a home where my parents, for the most part, fulfill exactly the opposite role that they “should.” I love that my Dad is the one who I call when I’m trying to decide what to wear for a job interview or sorority formal, and my Mom is the one who compares brackets with my uncles and guy friends during March Madness.
When I was a freshman in college and had my first real, big-time break up my dad took me to a bar where we ordered tacos and he told me the most gut-wrenching, heartbreaking tale of a lost love to cheer me up as I cried into my guacamole (tragic image). My dad works in design and fashion merchandising, so when I send him a screenshot from Madewell’s Instagram with an accompanying text that reads “!!!!!!” he appreciates it. He has a background in theater and screenwriting, so he knew exactly what books and plays to suggest when I declared a major in English. He is intensely dedicated to supporting me and my big brother, Evan, in every single thing we do.
Throughout my competitive dance years, my Dad was at every single performance and competition even with his demanding schedule. When I got elected on my sorority’s executive board, my dad was immediately interested in hearing the intricacies of our leadership structure and calling the family to alert them of the news.
I have an overwhelming love for Elvis Costello and black coffee because my dad insisted that Evan and I appreciate both of these things. My dad was the one to show me how to properly play an LP and roll film into a camera. When I called him and said, “what if I got my PhD in English instead of law school” he said “Yeah, that sounds like a better idea to me. More fun.” He cheered me on for being one of three girls in an Economics class my sophomore year of college and said, “Kill it.” New boyfriend? My dad is always more nervous than they are, and most curious to see if they can tell a good story, appreciate Etta James and enjoy his favorite pinot noir.
He will spend hours laboring over a pie to make sure it’s 110% gluten free and I can eat it. He will set the kitchen table with cloth napkins if I come home for a weekend. He will quickly throw $50 at me before I can get out of the car at the train station and shout “don’t tell mom!” He will bring me and my mom coffee every Saturday and Sunday morning on the way home from the gym, exactly the way we take it.
He gives the most wise, eloquent advice that is always supported with a new, outrageous story that begins with “I know I’ve told you this story a million times, but…” He will appreciate your new pair of shoes and enjoy the new album you want to show him, and he will request to watch "Mean Girls" after his horribly unsuccessful wisdom tooth extraction.
He will slave over picture frames that you need spray-painted gold for a room decoration for the first night of recruitment and he will drive you to dozens of stores across suburban Wisconsin to find the perfect pair of new running shoes (New Balance only, though).
I’m convinced that I have the coolest dad ever, and I know that I’m growing into the person that I am becoming because I’ve had a dad who never sacrifices any part of himself to make someone else happy but will do anything in his power to make sure that you know you are loved and valued.
