I know I'm a little behind.
And I know I wasn't home to say this in person...
But it doesn't mean I mean it any less.
I love you dad.
I love the way you make crazy eyes when taking pictures.
Or how you cook breakfast in your boxers.
How you taught me how to play sports...
Catch a fish, swing a golf club, draw teeth...
I will always remember our father-son dinners.
And how 9 out of 10 times we ended up at Chef Wongs.
Sesame Chicken, Shrimp and Cashews, and Seafood Delight.
Family style.
I remember all the drives to and from Pittsburgh.
The tunnels I made wishes in.
I remember playing tennis at Brightbill as lightning lit up the sky.
And I remember how grateful you were whenever you'd come home from work at night and I'd have dinner for you.
I love how you fall asleep in front of the tv.
And even though you still till this day say you don't snore,
I love that too.
I love how you have the ability to befriend
anyone you come in contact with.
And are perfectly content either being the center of attention
or an intent listener.
Your stories are unparalleled,
In fact, I'd like to think that's something you passed onto me.
And even though I may not always see it
I secretly love whenever anyone tells me I remind them of you.
Happy father's day dad.
Top photo: Dan-O, me, and little sister circa 1993ish.
Bottom Photo: Mom and Dad in Chinatown, Philadelphi circa Mothers day 2010.
Fact: When I was younger I used to eat strawberries like there was no tomorrow. Seriously... I went through them like they were gong out of style. It got to the point that my parents began telling me that the reason I had red hair was because of my excessive strawberry intake. And I believed them. I told anyone who asked me where I got my red hair, (strangers, relatives, teachers, friends, the produce man at the grocery store, seriously anyone), that it was because I ate so many strawberries. And I did it up until the age of 5... when Mrs. Sebastian, my kindergarten teacher, called home and told my parents it was probably time to explain to me that fruit couldn't change a person's hair color. To this day, even though my love of strawberries has died down to that of the average American, I still tell the occasional person that asks me how I got my bright red hair, in all seriousness: "Strawberries."
