Today is my dad's birthday...or rather, would have been his birthday. He would be 48 years old today. My dad died almost 8 years ago, at the age of 40, from complications due to alcoholism. I miss my dad everyday. It's funny, how someone can be gone for so long, and yet they still cross your mind...like, I should call and tell him something, or buy that for him...things like that.
But I'm not writing this post for it to be sad. I am writing it to celebrate the person that my dad was. He was not perfect. But he was my dad. I worshiped him. When I was younger, I thought he was invincible and that nothing could stop him. He always seemed so tall to me. He was about 6'1", but he seemed taller. He was a physically fit person, for most of his life. He had a love for sports that I have never seen matched in anyone else.
People tell me, when he was in high school, that he was a fantastic athlete. He was a superstar football player, and a pretty good basketball player. That was still obvious when I was growing up. I think he became a teacher so he could be a coach. Although that is not necessarily a good reason to teach, he became an industrial arts teacher (think wood shop) and was very good at it. We often moved when I was growing up so that my dad could get a new or better job coaching football. He coached a lot of sports, basketball, baseball, softball. But football was his love. And his players loved him. I mean LOVED him. Like I did. We always had football players at our house. I particularly remember this in Florida, when I was in middle school and at an appropriate age to appreciate these boys in my house. It got awkward when I actually started high school, and those same boys, who I of course had crushes on, wouldn't treat me as anything but a little sister-type, because I was Coach Peck's daughter. (Which I must say, really sucked then) :)
My dad was a people person...and he was also a rule breaker. But people seemed to be okay with that. Dad had the sort of cockiness that appeals to people. He could disarm people with his charm and his smile (much like my brother Tommy, for those of you that know him). This opened a lot of doors for him.
My dad had a great sense of humor that could also be considered a little sick. He was good at memorizing jokes and he had a great laugh. His whole face would light up. To give you an example, my freshman year of high school, I took my dad's class. The entire class was boys, except for me, which I was perfectly happy with. A few weeks into the semester, a new kid was put into our class. He was an Hispanic immigrant, most likely from Mexico, and he spoke very little English. His name was Ricardo. When my dad would call roll, he would say "Retardo" and Ricardo would answer "Here." My dad literally did this every single day for the entire semester. And he cracked up about it, every single day. Ricardo, and most of the other students never really heard what he said. But me and one other guy, named Mike, did. And we would laugh too.
Many times, between classes, Dad would stand in the doorway of his classroom and pass gas. That way, when students entered, they would be "welcomed" with Eau de Peck. It was hilarious. Anytime he had an opportunity to play a trick on someone, he did. One time, we tied a dollar bill to a piece of fishing line in class, and laid it out in the hallway. Then we all crowded around the window in the door to watch as people walked by, and tried to pick up the dollar. Dad would jerk it just out of their reach. And they would reach for it two or three times before they realized someone was playing a trick on them. It was so funny when they would look up and see the whole class watching them! Dad got the biggest kick out of it, of anyone. We did that an entire class period one day.
Dad wanted all of us to play sports. Most of the memories I have with my dad involve sports in one way or another. He watched ESPN all the time, and I remember sitting on the couch listening to it for hours, sitting with him. He would get me, Tommy, and sometimes Kyle, when we lived in Durham, and we would play hot box. This was always so fun! Sometimes we would play two-on-two basketball in our driveway. My dad's friend, Mr. Holt, would be on my team, and Tommy on Dad's team. It was always a blast, but Dad would get mad if me and Mr. Holt beat them.
Exercise was important to Dad, so therefore, he made it important for us. He would make us ride our bikes sometimes, and have to make a loop and get back to the house within a certain time. He would throw us endless pop flies, and we had to catch them. If we caught it, we did 5 push-ups. If we missed, we did 10. He wasn't mean about it. He was just trying to teach us.
I could go on and on. I wish my younger siblings had more memories with our dad. That's something I feel sad about, that they didn't really know him. They don't have tons of stories and anecdotes that they experienced with him. I guess, really, you could argue I didn't know him either. But I have always felt a special connection to my dad, and I still feel it at times.
I don't know if he said it to my other siblings or not, but Dad always told me I was his favorite. And even if that's not completely true, I still carry that with me. He gave me a nickname when I was very small (in fact, I don't remember a time when I didn't have that nickname). It was Mugsy Bogz. Dad usually just called me Mugsy. No one, not even my mom, used that nickname for me...just Dad. And it's just as special to me now as it was then.
Every year, on Dad's birthday, and my anniversary, I reflect on him and all the craziness that surrounded him. Although he wasn't perfect, he always made me feel loved, and he gave me my sense of discipline, hard work, and humor.
One time, my Nanny (Mom's mom) told my Grandma (Dad's mom), that I "had too much of my daddy in me." I don't think she meant it that way, but I take that as a compliment. My dad was well-loved, a hard worker, outgoing, handsome, funny, and smart. So I hope I am like my Dad...I couldn't have asked for a better one.
No comments:
Post a Comment