My dad's coming to visit tomorrow, and I gotta admit I've sorta got the jitters.
He's something else, all right.
A laid-back dude, biker for almost 20 years, self-employed therapist with an MA in clinical psychology from San Jose State University.
Always been a tree-hugger and a hippie. Raised us in Eastlake, a small village just across Manistee Lake. For all intents and purposes, I tell people that I'm from Manistee.
And indeed, my parents are well-known there. They still live in the house I grew up in, are happily married, and basically have their shit really well in order. I'm proud of them, really. From humble, middle-class backgrounds they both came, and they both rose further above them.
Dad took us camping a lot when we were kids, something I didn't always appreciate then, but I sure as shit do now.
Raised my brother and I in the church, something my brother and I have since left, and my mother and father still struggle to reconcile this. It's the elephant in the room with us, so to speak.
But they both know they raised good boys, albeit a little crazy. And I've given them granddaughters, two beautiful granddaughters. Can't complain about that.
My mom and dad are both really nice, cool people. For that I am lucky. They still love each other too, for which I am always thankful.
My dad's riding his fucking Honda 1100cc Shadow out here from Michigan. He called on the phone tonight, from Spokane. Tonight he's staying in a hotel, as, apparently, the drive thru Montana today was windy, rainy, snowy and cold, and kicked his ass.
Or he kicked its ass. Whatever.
He'll be on his way tomorrow morning, and then book himself in a hotel here for four days. Then up to Bellingham to see his other son, the jerk, and his brother's family of 5. The Bellingham Smithold, if you will.
I've got "ammunition," as his cousin calls it, of a certain exchange student he took to prom. I know nothing, but I think Caryn wishes she could be here when I spring it on him, don't you, Caryn?
So yeah, I've got the jitters. For no good reason, other than that it won't be a long enough visit. And I miss my dad, and yet he will always eternally annoy me, simply because he raised me, AND I have his dna, and (mostly) I'm an uptight guy.
Dad's never met Beatrix before, and he's only seen Lucy twice--at two months, and one year. It'll be a big deal for him, and he's been excited about the trip for a long time. Packed and ready to go about two weeks in advance, my mom said.
He's something else, all right.
A laid-back dude, biker for almost 20 years, self-employed therapist with an MA in clinical psychology from San Jose State University.
Always been a tree-hugger and a hippie. Raised us in Eastlake, a small village just across Manistee Lake. For all intents and purposes, I tell people that I'm from Manistee.
And indeed, my parents are well-known there. They still live in the house I grew up in, are happily married, and basically have their shit really well in order. I'm proud of them, really. From humble, middle-class backgrounds they both came, and they both rose further above them.
Dad took us camping a lot when we were kids, something I didn't always appreciate then, but I sure as shit do now.
Raised my brother and I in the church, something my brother and I have since left, and my mother and father still struggle to reconcile this. It's the elephant in the room with us, so to speak.
But they both know they raised good boys, albeit a little crazy. And I've given them granddaughters, two beautiful granddaughters. Can't complain about that.
My mom and dad are both really nice, cool people. For that I am lucky. They still love each other too, for which I am always thankful.
My dad's riding his fucking Honda 1100cc Shadow out here from Michigan. He called on the phone tonight, from Spokane. Tonight he's staying in a hotel, as, apparently, the drive thru Montana today was windy, rainy, snowy and cold, and kicked his ass.
Or he kicked its ass. Whatever.
He'll be on his way tomorrow morning, and then book himself in a hotel here for four days. Then up to Bellingham to see his other son, the jerk, and his brother's family of 5. The Bellingham Smithold, if you will.
I've got "ammunition," as his cousin calls it, of a certain exchange student he took to prom. I know nothing, but I think Caryn wishes she could be here when I spring it on him, don't you, Caryn?
So yeah, I've got the jitters. For no good reason, other than that it won't be a long enough visit. And I miss my dad, and yet he will always eternally annoy me, simply because he raised me, AND I have his dna, and (mostly) I'm an uptight guy.
Dad's never met Beatrix before, and he's only seen Lucy twice--at two months, and one year. It'll be a big deal for him, and he's been excited about the trip for a long time. Packed and ready to go about two weeks in advance, my mom said.
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