“You need to be nicer to your dad.”
I hear this all the time from people who don’t really know Paps. Primarily because a majority of my stories about him involve me yelling at him.
For example: yesterday, we got into an argument about classic rock. I’m talking about how I prefer the Stones to the Beatles and he asks if I like David Bowie:
Me: Oh yeah. Bowie’s cool.
Paps: You know his real name isn’t David Bowie, right?
Me: Yeah. It’s David Jones. He changed it because he didn’t want to be conflated with Davey Jones from The Monkees.
Paps: He named himself after the knife.
Me: Yeah. A Bowie knife. I know.
Paps: He did it to impress Mick Jagger. Jagger…dagger.
Me: No, he didn’t!
Paps: Yes, he did, Jemmy.
Me (physically biting off the words in anger): No, Paps. He. Didn’t.
Paps: Jemmy! I used to read music magazines in the 1970’s. I would know!
Me: Paps! I read music BOOKS NOW! I would know!
These are the stories people hear and as a result, they wind up wanting to buy Paps a pint and thinking I’m a jerk who needs to stop yelling at her father.
Fair play. I’m the one telling the stories. I have no problem painting myself as the mustache-twirling villain in these scenarios and honestly, they’re a lot more interesting and a lot less glurgey than the way I really feel about the guy.
However since it’s Father’s Day and I’m over a thousand miles away, I figure a little glurge wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Paps is my hero and I am so damn proud to be my father’s daughter – dark-skinned, bullheaded, schmoozy and loud. I just hope I’ve inherited his other traits too. His loyalty, his generosity, his kindness and his selfless devotion to the people he loves. I have never met a man who does more for his family than Paps and I am so damn lucky to be his kid.
So, to my hero on Father’s Day – I hope you have a wonderful one and I really wish I was at home with you. This is the one day you get to be better than Superman, so live it up. Because tomorrow — Man of Steel’s back on top again.
I love you, Paps.
Your foul-mouthed, nakami oldest kid xx