I don’t know how it happened, but somewhere in the shuffle of friends getting married and my baby brother graduating from college, I missed sharing about my papa (or pappa, as he insists on spelling it).
He is an eternal source of evil laughs, twinkly eyes and dirty jokes. I don’t know if the man has ever had an enemy in his life; he tends to charm everyone he meets with his subdued yet mischievous approach. He’s moral to a fault, and taught me all the basics of photography and metering when I was in high school.
I think I had an idea early on just how lucky I was to have him as a dad, because unlike most other kids I knew, I actually enjoyed spending time with him and hearing his stories. Of course we butted heads when I was growing up (our family tends to be a tad bit, shall we say, opinionated), but now he and my mom are kind of my besties. I can go to him for anything, and I am so, so grateful.
We celebrated Father’s Day pretty quietly this year, which we were totally fine with after all the madness of Lars’ graduation Friday and Saturday. Per his request we spent the day watching baseball (go Angels!), movies and Euro Cup games, and rounded off the evening with breakfast burritos from our favorite local place. He was pretty darn pleased.
I love you, Pappa.