That's My Job

"That's my job.
That's what I do. 
Everything I do is because of you, to keep you safe with me. 
That's my job, you see." 
Those are lyrics from the Conway Twitty song that I nerdfully adopted as "the official song for my dad and me."  I even made him sign a contract to seal the deal.  I think I was probably 10...So it's been our song for awhile now. :)

In honor of Father's Day (which I will be out of town for, but leaving a card that I actually bought last year and forgot to give to my dad) I wanted to use this space to speak to the awesomeness that is my dad.  :)  It is appropriate to note that my card is technically a year late, because my dad invented the now widely used term, "JST," or to those uninformed people, "Julie Standard Time."  It's a real thing, and I operate on it more than I would like to admit (really always), and giving it a clever name makes it less awful.  But it really is awful.  I'm working on it--but it's not happening fast enough, which brings me back to what it IS.  Time that I operate within, in which most of the world is running circles around.  I'm not always...punctual.  One of my all-time favorite dad quotes was born on a morning that he was supposed to drive me to school for a student council meeting.  It was middle school, and Lord knows a middle school girl's hair MUST be PREPARED for school.  :)  His M.O. was to pace the hallway downstairs and jingle his keys.  Which annoyed the bajeebers outta' me, but I'm pretty sure he was just trying to reciprocate his own feelings of having to wait on a daughter who literally curled every single strand of her hair each morning before school.  Anywho, my very patient father yelled up from the bottom of the stairs, "Julia Grace!  I could disassemble and reassemble a CAR in the time it takes you to get ready for school!!!"  When you can be funny in your frustration, seriously, you are awesome.

My dad has so many classic quotes.  "I could make a meal on that!" is one of my faves.  Picture a dinner party, with several other couples.  Table is set with all the bells and whistles.  Salad forks, dessert plates, EVERYTHING.  Apparently some sort of soup was served.  Delicious soup, I've heard.  Very filling.  My dad gleefully and appreciatively turns to the hostess of this lovely dinner party and says, "I could make a meal on that!"  To which the offended party responded, "That.  Was.  The meal."  My dad has taught me so many lessons, and we've both confirmed that inserting our foot into our mouth is something we both do quite well. :)  Thanks for that genetic inheritance, dad. :)  When your social faux pas create a storytelling legacy, you know you're awesome. 

My dad was gone a lot.  He worked really hard for not just our family, but for our community.  He owned his own business, served our church in multiple roles, and was a board member of like EVERYTHING in our town.  But he always made time to come to my swim meets, plays, games, etc.  He also made time to take my sister and me to Purdue games.  Boiler basketball and football games are some of my favorite times with my dad.  I don't know how young I was when he started that tradition, but I remember being in college and finally realizing that the REALLY LOUD WHISTLER was my dad.  I totally thought that was coming from somewhere else.  I must say, he has an impressively loud whistle.  He indulged me in my infatuation with Woody Austin, and always bought me a giant soft pretzel or peanut M&M's.  He also would take me past the ticket office to look at the pictures of his grandpa "Pop" Doan, who managed the ticket office for years at Purdue.  I loved seeing the pictures in that case.  Some of them were of family, and I got to see my dad as a teenager.  He was extremely handsome, and I have always loved thinking about what my dad and mom must have been like when they were my age (at whatever age I am when I think that.)  My dad's pride in where he came from instilled my own desire to be connected to these amazing people my dad still tears up about.  My great-grandparents and grandparents were truly wonderful people, and when I got to go to Purdue games, I felt connected to them all somehow.  Like walking in their footsteps...in the freezing cold uphill footsteps from Mackey to the parking lot, am I right???  Basketball season in Indiana is flipping COLD.  But a dad who takes his daughter to see Boilermaker Athletics, and shares stories from when he would go to games with his dad, is, let's face it, pretty awesome.

I was super weird in high school and never went to basketball or football games with anyone else.  I was too social.  I literally fluttered from one person to the next, completely delighted in my socially attention deficit behavior.  It had to have driven other people nuts...and truth be told, I never grew out of that...my apologies.  So when I would leave home, alone, to go out on a Friday night, my dad's parting words were always the same.  "Do your best, do what's right, do unto others."  I kind of had forgotten that he said that until I started working with teenagers, and realized how much I wanted to tell them what choices they needed to make.  Don't do that!  Do this instead!!!  I get it.  But my dad, so diplomatic and wise, would simply share those nine words, which sum up what to do IN LIFE quite nicely.  Awesome.

 I struggle(d) with my weight growing up, although I was super active, I was also super amazing at consuming large amounts of food.  My dad always assured me that I was beautiful, but most importantly that I was a good person, and maybe don't have seconds on dinner AND dessert. :)  He told me that I was the kind of girl that can intimidate boys (with my stellar wit and amazing personality?  or maybe he meant that taking so long to get ready every morning could intimidate boys...), and that the right boy would be the right boy.  He would appreciate the things about me that my dad saw in me, no matter what I weighed.  My Link Larkin, if you will.  ("Hairspray" reference.)   He made me feel awesome about who I was, and I kind of think that is a dad's job for his daughter.  Awesome job, Dad. :)

So when I turned 33 (my all-time favorite number) and my dad said, "It's gonna' be a lucky year," I had NO IDEA what that would entail.  About one week before my 33rd birthday, I had filed for divorce, moved out of my dream home, and was literally spinning down a drain of shame, guilt, and failure.  Turning 33 meant that everything was going to HAVE to get better--it was my lucky number!  I had been looking forward to being 33 since I was 12.  But about 33 SECONDS after my dad spoke those words, his body started shutting down.  He had developed streptococcal pneumonia (that's the really really bad kind) because for months he had not been able to swallow correctly.  We would find out over the next 48 hours that my dad had an undiagnosed brain tumor, right at his brain stem, and would need to do surgery ASAP.  That night, on my 33rd birthday, we almost lost my dad.  His organs all started shutting down (sepsis), and the doctor pretty much told it like it was.  He was either going to wake up the next morning, or he wasn't.  Holy.  Crap.  It better be a lucky year, Dad!!!!  That moment kick started a crazy journey that continues today.  As a result of the tumor extraction, my dad lost a lot of his vision (he sees double.  like always.), balance, and his face is paralyzed.  And I have so many unbelievable stories about the way God surrounded my entire family in that time--that is a future blog called "Meeting Jesus.  Live.  In Person."  But all of this to brag on the awesomeness that is my dad.  I feel like most people would probably crawl into a hole with a tv remote and a box of twinkies if they had to endure some of the things my dad has endured.  The guy couldn't eat solid food for 6 months (at least!) after his surgery.  He had a feeding tube that went directly into his stomach.  Can you even imagine what that is like for a DAY?  My dad, though, is not only courageous, but extremely perseverant and determined.  He started going to the Y.  He started going back to his bank board meetings.  He started driving again.  Right now he's on a fishing trip with his buddies.  This man is freaking Superman, and he's my DAD.  My dad is SUPERMAN, PEOPLE.  And that, my friends, is AWESOME. 

Happy Father's Day to all of you.  I know that I am extremely fortunate to be able to wish my dad a happy father's day over the phone (and I could have in person if I weren't a terrible human being who is out of town that day).  My heart goes out to my friends who have lost their fathers.  I came so eerily close to being in that boat...I kind of get it.  I know one thing for sure, I have a totally different kind of appreciation for my dad now,  then I did before my 33rd birthday.  And I can speak for all of us with awesome dads out there--make sure you tell them how awesome they are while they're here.  Ferris Bueller said it himself--"Life moves pretty fast."  It sure does.  And hopefully you can slow down long enough to tell the awesome people who are making a difference in yours.