Dad's have it pretty bad. Time was they earned all the money, mom got all the credit. So I've taken to a new tradition of calling up my own pop and telling him "Happy Mother's Day!"
He accepted it gladly and informed me about how happy he was for the free buffet he was getting. The senior special. My Mom chimed in on the phone call and told me that he was planning on weeding later on. Then going over to my sister's place to work on some home improvement project. No rest for the wicked, or Fathers, I guess.
My pop is a phenomenal dude. I know everyone thinks their Dad is. And I hope you believe that. But my Dad came over from a different country. He had 12 bucks in his pocket, so he tells me. My Mom dragged us three kids on a plane to America. Back then it was really easy to take advantage of immigrants. My Mom told me that someone stole her carry-on, which contained my diapers. I'm sure it was probably a legitimate mistake. But still...
Anyway, Pop came to America in the late 70's. He started working in a kitchen. I recall seeing him in some wind tunnel tube, with a wood burning grill in the middle and the patrons would sit around watching him cook. This was part of the 70's style over substance show and dinner type era. I thought it was cool. Looking back, really cheeseball. But I was proud of the guy. He later opened his own restaurant. At a time when eateries were closing at a terrible rate, he beat the odds in the 80's. Raised three kids and a wife. Bought a house. That's the American Dream.
I look at other Dad's in America. The ones that turned to substance abuses, abusing spouse or kids. Neglect. I say...I am fortunate.
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