Today is my dad’s 55th birthday, and so, I dedicate this column to him.
My dad could undoubtedly beat up your dad, but he wouldn’t. That’s not his style.
My dad would definitely leave your dad in stitches … after your dad’s sides were split in gut-busting laughter.
It never fails; every moment I share with him is blessed by a belly laugh. He is hilarious.
My dad can turn the simplest subject matter into a gesture of jest. His razor-resembling wit would catch your dad off-guard and leave him grinning ear-to-ear.
Even when the mood is morose and the setting is somber, I can count on my dad to poke a hole in the clouds and let in a little laughter.
Yeah, he’s got the power to knock out your dad, but he would rather knock him dead with a joke.
It wouldn’t be conventional comedy that would leave your dad rolling on the floor, either. Your dad would be taken off-guard by a seemingly effortless remark, hitting him right where it counts, in the funny bone.
Sure, my dad’s roundhouse kicks can break the sound barrier. And yeah, one of his well-timed karate chops could tilt Earth off its axis. But that’s not the point.
OK … so he could not only beat up your dad … but a team of dad’s … in riot gear … armed with sledgehammers, and teamed up with expertlytrained attack wolves. But that’s not the point.
The point is, he would not make hastily light work of those two-dozen lesser dads by simply bicycle-kicking them into outer space. That’s not his style.
My dad is peaceful, warm-hearted and disarming. He is smart and wise, kind and joyful, and although we’ve had our differences, I’m grateful and proud to be his son.
I’m proud of his intelligence and strength to surpass problems. I’m proud of his ability to see to the crux of what matters and leave behind what doesn’t. I’m proud of how he raised my sister and my brother. I’m proud of who he is as a husband. I’m proud of how kind he is to animals and how loving and sweet he is to his three grandchildren.
I’m grateful for his strength that I’ve tested time after time. I’m grateful for his words and lessons. I’m grateful for the time we’ve spent together. I’m grateful for the silences we’ve shared. I’m grateful for his straight-up demeanor and I’m grateful for how he always holds me accountable.
Later today, your dad may see the trees in his backyard bending, but tell him to not be alarmed if a few slats of siding and some shingles blow off the ol’ homestead.
That’ll just be my old man, huffing out his 55 flaming candles some 600 miles away.
Shaun Savarese is a reporter with The Daily Record. Reach him at (910) 230-2040 or email@example.com.
SHAUN OF THE READ
My dad and I.