For instance, he’s a Bulldog. I’m a Rebel.
Need I say more?
Well, yeah, because my dad has become an Ole Miss fan since I became an alum in 2006.
But our differences run a bit deeper than that: We’d probably never vote for the same politicians. He loves going to games, and I love going to concerts. Once I went through his record collection and took the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack for myself and left him all of his Barry Manilow records.
That’s not to say we have nothing in common: The only sport I like is basketball, probably his least-favorite sport, but he likes it enough that we can talk about it. We both like Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles and The Beatles. We both love to travel. One of my favorite memories was our trip to Los Angeles when I was in high school.
Our differences may outnumber our similarities, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. And talk is what we do best.
We usually chat around food: at lunch, on the way to pick up take-out for supper, over the grill.
No matter where we are, we’re deep in discussion.
Sometimes the conversations are light and breezy: He’ll talk about whatever game he just saw, and I’ll talk about whatever concert I just experienced.
Sometimes it’s more serious: He’ll give me advice, or I’ll toss around some ideas I have to get his opinion.
Sometimes the talks are run of the mill. There are plenty of conversations that go something like this:
My dad: “How’s things at the Daily Journal?”
Me: “Fine. Busy. Ready for a vacation.”
My dad: “How’s your car running?”
Me: “Fine. Doing good. She’s my baby.”
My dad: “Still seeing your boyfriend?”
Me: “I am. He’s a good egg.”
They may be run of the mill, but they’re comfortable.
And that’s probably the best word to describe my relationship with my dad. It’s a quiet, comfortable relationship, but one that I treasure.
He often pokes fun at me for not writing about him very often. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “You never write about your dear, old dad.”
I guess it’s just because I like keeping these quiet conversations to myself.
Until now, of course.
Happy Father’s Day to the best Bulldog and Barry Manilow fan I know.