Happy Father's Day, Dad ... Wish you were here

It still unreal to me that my dad's been gone for four months. I should be getting ready to call him to see him open his Father's Day presents. He was always hard to buy for, but food and non-fiction books were always a good bet.

When I was a kid, my dad and I were pretty close. He was the one who read to me at bed time. He taught me to fish, how to catch and mount butterflies, and how to develop black and white film. My love of food ... all food ... came from him. My style of cooking -- a dash of this, a dash of that and never make things the same way twice -- came from him. We always opined about our obvious Spanish noses. My temper -- hot and fast -- definitely came from him.

As I grew older, we drifted apart somewhat, and I became closer to my mom. We started talking more when I moved here to Japan, largely because I actually had things to talk about. He was fascinated by Japan after coming here once, which is why he was glad to keep coming back. I wish I could have shown him more.

When I went back to the U.S. for my mom's funeral, he told me that we still had adventures ahead of us, and I'm glad we got in one last one -- visiting the volcano Mount Aso -- at Christmas. I wish we could have had those adventures ...oh  the meals we would have had.

The Army was the best thing that ever happened to my dad. He was working in a factory with his dad when he got drafted. He might never have left the Bay Area if he hadn't been. My parents had gotten married to avoid the draft, which obviously didn't work, but he luckily ended up in Korea, rather than Vietnam. Thanks to the Army, my family got to go around the world and experience things we would otherwise have only dreamed of.

My dad was a really good painter, a talent he got from his dad. The house was full of paintings large and small. He could whip out the little ones he sold on ebay (for too little!) in his sleep. The important ones, the ones he did for me, my mom or himself, could take months. He worked in oils, primarily, though he did pencil sketches as well. I took all his sketchbooks, and set aside a couple of large paintings that will join me at some point. He kept an easel set up in the family room, and he'd wander by, pick up a brush, do a little work, go get coffee and toast, come back, paint a few more. And so on. It was always fascinating to watch. He was going to paint me three paintings for each of the German cities we lived in, and I'd hoped to have him to do a special anniversary picture for Granrodeo....

He was also a decent writer. I've saved the stories he and my mom wrote; I particularly like one essay he wrote about going camel wrestling in Turkey.

When my parents moved back to Georgia to retire, my dad took up the guitar. He would play a little each evening, even on trips. I still have his travel guitar, since he'd bought himself a new guitar here in Fukuoka at Christmas. I hope he had a chance to play it.

He loved to fish. Apparently when we lived in Texas, he would catch dinner when times were tight. I learned to really love trout fishing from him. He had been considering learning to fly fish, and travel up and down the east coast to try some other spots out. He didn't get much opportunity to fish the last couple of years, unfortunately, and it was too hot for us to fish when I visited last. I hope he gets to fish every day now.

My dad was very fussy about books. The only fiction I really know he read were The Lord of the Rings (he bought me my copies), the Harry Potter books, a Song of Fire & Ice and a lot of P. G. Wodehouse. He read copious books about World War I and II, mostly from a western perspective (though I had gotten him started on books about the Pacific theater). He liked well-written travelogues (he really liked Alan Booth's books).

He and my mom had similar tastes in TV and movies, which worked out well for them. Lots of BBC shows like The Detectorists, The Last of the Summer Wine, Midsummer Murders and As Time Goes By. They were very fond of Tombstone, the Godfather, Galaxy Quest and Die Hard. They were completely and utterly hooked on The Big Bang Theory, and it makes me ridiculously sad that we all watched part one of the last episode ... not realizing part two was airing right after. I wish they could've seen it.

In high school my dad wrestled (bantam weight) and played baseball. As an adult, he enjoyed watching baseball, football and golf, though he said he stopped watching golf after my mom passed, since it wasn't as much fun. He took me to the practice rounds of the Masters one year, patiently following me as I chased golfers down for autographs. He also helped coach my basketball team in junior high, even scoring us a free trip to Garmisch for a tournament.

I miss my dad's cooking. He had several rib recipes that were really good, and he did fantastic stuffed peppers.

I also really miss his creativity. He could look at some discarded item and completely repurpose it (he made me a tiny dalek one time). I always loved to see what things he would make my mom for Christmas. I asked him about this earlier in the year, and he told me it was creativity born of being poor. When you have little, you learn to do a lot with it. The pics here are a tiny Rocket Raccoon and Poirot nutcracker he did for my mom.

Most of all, I just miss you, dad. Tonight's 7-11 egg salad sando is for you -- Love, April