The Daddy Diary
Musings on Babies, Bulldogs, and Beer
Super Memories
Super Bowl Sunday. I remember watching the game with my dad every year. To some, football is just a game. On some level that is true, but having grown up in a generation where men weren’t as open emotionally, sports was a way for little boys to bond with their dads.
We never missed a Cowboy game, and if they were playing in the Super Bowl? That was practically a religious holiday in our house. I still watch the Super Bowl every year, but I don’t have the same reverence for Super Bowl Sunday as I did when I was younger. That is partly because the Cowboys have sucked for 26 straight years, but mostly because I can’t watch the game with my dad anymore. He’s been gone for almost six years now. Sometimes it seems like he’s been gone forever. Sometimes it seems like he passed away yesterday.
Memories of my dad came poring back as I was preparing to have people over to watch the Super Bowl. My preparations for having people over entailed watching my smoker while drinking beer on my patio. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
As I was “preparing,” I read an article by Sean Dietrich morning titled “Lost and Found” and more memories came pouring back. Sean reminisced about playing catch with his dad. I remember cleaning out my dad’s armoire when we were moving Mom out of the house I grew up in. My dad collected so much useless crap, and the armoire was his national archive. We found about forty pocket knives, which is 39 more than anyone would ever need. We also found several golf balls. Golf balls? I don’t know that the man ever played a round of golf in his life. But I remember the first thing I saw when I opened the door. Right at eye level, there was my little league baseball glove. I hadn’t thought about that glove for over 39 years. Mom said, “That was one of the first things he saw when he opened his armoire every morning.
I played a lot of catch with my dad, but I wasn’t sure at the time why he kept that glove. It wasn’t a symbol of my greatest achievement. It wasn’t as if I played in the major leagues and he could tell everyone that this was the glove my kid used to learn the game of baseball. Heck, he probably could’ve sold that glove on eBay as new because more fly balls found my forehead than the webbing of that glove. I’m sure every man wants his son to eclipse his athletic achievements. Sadly, for my father, my athletic skills were always best suited for games like Trivial Pursuit and chess. But he still kept that glove.
I understand why he kept my glove because I have children now. I want to capture each moment and lock it away someplace that I will never forget. I have a box full of every drawing that Ella has ever made. Drawing most likely will not be her calling. None of these artistic creations will ever be shown in the Louvre. But that doesn’t matter to me. Someday when I am gone, she will find the box and wonder why I kept it.
When she has kids, she will understand.
One Comment on “Super Memories”
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The Daddy Diary 
Precious memories, how they linger. Thanks for sharing your ‘heart’, as well as your thoughts. Your dad was a gentle GIANT – in all his ways. You and your siblings give him honor.
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