Pete had a really bad day yesterday. So I'm going to cut him a break and just say Happy Father's Day Pete, we love you.
But because I miss my dad and I didn't really get him anything for Father's day, I think I'll dwell on him a bit longer. The other day, my friend Gayathri was at my house giving me an Indian cooking lesson. I was talking about my dad. (you should probably know, that I look for any excuse to talk about my dad. I know it's annoying, but I do it anyway, I'm a dad dropper) Gayathri asked me what my dad's name was and I told her, "It's Bud." "Ohhhh." She said, and then there was this all too familiar awkward silence, I could tell she thought that name was ridiculous and she was trying not to laugh. "Oh whatever Gayatri!" I shot back, "Like your Indian names are normal-- I know an Indian named Ba." And her matter-of-fact response was, "Well that's OK because all of our names have meanings." I thought that was pretty funny.
I wish I could share some of the highest highs and lowest lows, because those are some of my best stories, but my dad is very modest and sort of a big deal so I will try to not embarrass him too much.
One of my favorite memories with my dad is that April Fools when we borrowed a huge magnet from my grandpa's machine shop and put it in the bottom of a paper grocery bag. Then we glued in a bunch of fake groceries like empty cereal boxes and egg cartons and put it on the top of the car. We got in and started driving around. It was awesome. People were honking and pointing at the top of the car, and we'd pretend like we didn't understand what they were trying to tell us and just wave back like morons. The best was driving through the grocery store parking lot and watching people hurt themselves for the sake of our groceries. We almost felt bad. We drove around for hours. Sometimes people would not do anything but look at the top of our car, they wouldn't smile or anything, just look. That was even funnier because--what kind of an idiot does that? We even got pulled over by a cop. That was a great day.
One of the lows on my dad's parenting record what when he would help me with my math homework. I was probably 11, and I asked him to help me with long division. I'm terrible at long division. It made my dad so mad. After I missed like 5 problems in a row, he said, "Okay every time you get one wrong, I want to you say this, 'Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order?'" He didn't make me say that every time. Sometimes I had to say, "Would you like fries with that?" I learned a lot of valuable lessons that night, none of those lessons were how to actually do long division, but that's what calculators are for right?