Like My Dad… By Whitney Farmer – Un Pop Culture
June 15, 2011 Whitney Farmer 0 Comments
Whitney runs a rock music venue on the beach in L.A.. She has an M.B.A., and hopes that her Dad enjoys reading her blog this week.
The man that I will love will be like my Dad.
He will have kind eyes, and he will look at me with these eyes as warm as the earth the way Dad looks at Mom: Always, and delighted.
At night – still – after all of their children’s children have gone to bed, I hear them laughing softly with each other. There is nothing precious I need to remember from other years because their love is unchanged, the same.
He still wants her to write a book that will push the memory of all other books from his mind like forgotten practice kisses.
He calls her “Slim” and she begins to walk differently, swirling a hip slightly before she steps down with an impossibly small foot.
He carries himself into every room with the grace that only a holy man can sustain.
Every table comes alive when he sits to break bread. The chair next to him is the most coveted one.
The words he speaks are rare and carry light in them.
He is careful with his thoughts, guarding them until it is time to release them, steering them to where they are needed.
The man that I will love will be ageless like my Dad.
He’ll be like Moses, and 80 will be when God comes to him and says, “I’ve got an idea…”
His grandchildren will covet their conversations with him, calling in secret and speaking in covenant. None will know what wisdom he gives, but the fruit in their lives will grown strong and sweet because of it.
His arrivals and departures will be the biggest news in town, and women will forget themselves as they vie for a glance from him. Mom understands.
He will have children that he will love reasonably and gently, and dogs that he will love hopelessly and recklessly.
He will look at maps and see promised voyages, but also layers of lives who have sailed those waters before. And he’ll ponder them.
He will hold a frightened hand with the same one that shares a nut with a hungry squirrel, with the one that picks up a daughter who has fallen out of love, with the one that will give her to another where she may find hope again.
The man that I will love will be like no other. Except like my Dad.
Mike Gold
June 15, 2011 - 1:00 pm
Wow. As a dad, I’m really moved. As a human, I’m really moved.
And your dad must be REALLY cool. From the photo, I see he’s got a rocket pack! I’m so jealous.
Reg
June 15, 2011 - 2:09 pm
That’s what’s up, White Lady. Dad’s a blessed man.
Whitney
June 15, 2011 - 10:46 pm
Golden Boy –
His jet pack contained peanut butter sandwiches, trail mix, a compass, and a canteen of lukewarm water. But you’re right: He can fly.
Whitney
June 15, 2011 - 10:46 pm
King Reg –
He still looks the same. We have all changed a bit.
Moriarty
June 15, 2011 - 11:11 pm
Whitney,
What a wonderful love letter from a daughter to a father. Beautiful writing.
The longest I’ve ever spoken to him was when I called from a phone booth on a wharf in Honolulu and he broke the news to me that you moved to Washington. I wonder if he is fielding as many calls for you today as he did for teenage Whitney.
Martha Thomases
June 16, 2011 - 6:04 am
Every day is a gift, sweetie.
R. Maheras
June 16, 2011 - 10:19 am
What a nice tribute!
Reg
June 16, 2011 - 12:08 pm
Lady Whit…I suspect you’re the slightly knock-kneed little beauty holding a replica Moishe’s tablets in hand? Yes?
😉
MOTU
June 16, 2011 - 12:26 pm
Whitster,
As you well know I have no idea who my father is. I’ve said a million times my mom raised me and I was just fine with that.
I’ve always thought my ‘father’ was a punk ass bitch who left my mom,sister and me so the Hell with him.
I NEVER thought I would say this but after reading your piece I wish he was around. If he was half of the man your Dad was that would be 90% more of what would have made me happy.
Thanks a freakin lot Whitney. Because of you I now have another reason to see (HELL NO I WON’T) a damn therapist.
Damn white people and their damn daddy’s…
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 1:39 pm
Moriarty –
Is rarer these days that my dad gets phone calls for me from sailors, much to his disappointment. I do my best to discuss nautical issues with him, but it’s usually when the ocean floods into my office below ground on the pier. Now as a precaution, he keeps me informed when a full moon will coincide with a high tide.
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 1:42 pm
R. Maheras –
Dad’s not sure how he feels about his picture being on the internet. But a guy like him needs to be throughly celebrated.
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 1:53 pm
King Reg –
Yeah…I went through a stage when I had no idea what to do with my knees. My little sister and I both faced this and talked about what to do. She told me that she had decided that she wanted to be bowleggeded because it looked more like a ballerina. So, she trained herself to stand like she is in the photo. And she grew up to be one of the best professional dancers in the world.
And yes, I used to take my Bible with me when we would go hiking in the mountains. I don’t know if I was reading to Him or He was speaking to me or both, but it always seemed that it was easier to hear Him when I was closer to heaven.
Maybe my name has something to do with it.
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 1:55 pm
MOTU –
Get another puppy. Cheaper than therapy.
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 1:56 pm
Lovely Martha –
I’ve been thinking about you so much this week. I’m keeping your words close to my heart.
MOTU
June 16, 2011 - 2:02 pm
What do I have to do to get a reply to MY post? I guess I should write like Reg…
Princess Whitney Of Wonderful Land,
This was once again something fantastic and you are so pretty and I blah, blah, blah, YOU, blah, blah, ME, blah, blah, US.
R. Maheras
June 16, 2011 - 2:31 pm
MOTU — As someone who also had no relationship with his biological father (I met him briefly once when I was about seven, and talked to him on the phone twice shortly before he died), I can relate. He abandoned my mom, sister and I when I was a baby, and had nothing to do with us for more than 50 years.
But I was fortunate in that my mom re-married when I was nine, and she got it right the second time around. I had no problem referring to my step-father as “dad” because he was truly the only father I ever knew. He took care of all five of his kids, loved us, and tried as hard as he could to do all of the things a father should do for his children. It’s been more than three years now, and I still haven’t gotten over losing him.
However, in the case of my biological father, when I learned about his death two years ago (nearly five months after the fact, by the way), I basically felt nothing. It was like a stranger had died.
So I’ll always be thankful I was lucky enough to get a second chance at having a dad — and a great one, at that.
MOTU
June 16, 2011 - 3:15 pm
R. Maheras wrote,
‘So I’ll always be thankful I was lucky enough to get a second chance at having a dad — and a great one, at that.’
How freakin cool is that?!
Reg
June 16, 2011 - 4:02 pm
“Hatin’ the mOTu be. Good it feels.”
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 11:44 pm
R. Maheras –
Your stepfather must have cherished it when you called him ‘dad’. Your mom was gifted with such a good man who became your father.
Blood can be inconsequential when we put a family together. You are a testament of that.
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 11:45 pm
MOTU –
Now you’re talkin’.
Princess Whitney is pleased.
Whitney
June 16, 2011 - 11:46 pm
Reg –
Ignore MOTU, and keep it coming.
Gentlemen: Take notes.
Shane Kelly
June 17, 2011 - 7:19 am
Whitney,
I can only hope and aspire to be a quarter of what you wrote about your father, to my children (4 so far, so, maybe I have the odds going for me in numbers alone).
Whitney
June 17, 2011 - 10:48 am
Shane Kelly –
Four kids? Just like my Dad. So far, so good.