Father's Day - 2014 When I was 2 or 3 my parents went to New York and saw Bobby Short, a cabaret singer they loved. They had him sign his second album, “To my Youngest Fan,George - Love, Bobby Short.” If my father had a theme song, it was one from this album self titled album, “Bobby Short”, track number 5, “I’ve Got The World On A String.” So by the miracle of Sonos and all these streamingmusic services, in the kitchen this morning to keep the waffles from sticking and the omelet to flip right, we cranked up, “I’ve Got The World On A String.” I could hear my father singing. I could hear my boys asking me about him. I knew every word.
One of the things that is incredible listening to this album is how fully formed Short’s style is on his second album. We bought all of his albums and they formed the soundtrack growing up (with Sinatra and a bunch of musicals). We totally wore out my Aunt Barbara’s copy of, “Bobby Short Love Cole Porter.”
On the day I became a father, Jackson arrived miraculously fully formed, and then Asher three years after. Everyday since they began talking, I have been called, “Dad” over and over and over. When they are hungry. When they need someone to help them in the bathroom or when they are scared. “Dad” is yelled out as we are flying down a hill on our bikes together. “Dad” is begged out to pitch ball after ball in the backyard. “DAD!!!” is screamed as they are running over when I come home from work. “Dad” way too early in the morning when they decide it is time to get up.
On Father’s Day 2014 I am trying to hold onto every precious moment like every single day since I became a father. I take out my camera for a moment as they are standing with their blankets on top of the steps. Then I put it away and we all cuddle up.
There are a lot of articles and posts lately about how hard it is to be a father (it is NOT hard). A lot about how special the role of father is( I could roll that one over a couple of times). Mostly we are a family. There are all kinds of families. All kinds of fathers.
What makes a father are children they can love. A partner or wife who shares it all. It is a room with eggs and waffles warm and waiting. It is Bobby Short singing as he sang at the very first father’s day I ever had with my own father. It is all waiting in the very next room. I am there.
It is hard to write about Father’s Day knowing that a father is not always there forever. My father and Stephie’s father are gone and so sadly missed. Other families who are raising children in so many different ways. We are all raising these kids in the best way we know how. Helping each other. Supporting each other. Knowing that in every family the thing that makes us parents are the one’s who look to us for support and protection and lessons in love.