me and Daddy-o circa 1985

My Dad is a good father. My parents have been divorced since before I turned 5, yet my life has not been absent of my father. He has made it a point to be involved, to call, to care. When we lived in Texas he would drive the 2 hours to attend piano recitals, band performances, etc. He flew out to Utah for my High School graduation, and to Hawaii for my college graduation ... twice (sorry 'bout that). He is a vacuum cleaner salesman specializing in Kirby cleaners. Vaccums take up a bit of space, so he has driven a suburban since before I was taller than the tires. When I was little he used to tell me that if I counted to 3 it would make the brights turn on and off - "1, 2, 3 ..." and then a beam of light would shine down the highway. "1, 2, 3!" the road would go dark. I felt oh so powerful ... then when I was 9 or so I realized that voice-controlled brights didn't exist, but Dad would still do it for me.

maternal grandma, mom, me, dad, paternal grandma - HS graduation 2000

One thing I love about my dad is his wardrobe. He always wears western-style polyester pants with the "can't get it out with a steam-roller" crease down the front and back of the leg, and a three-button polo, with a gold chain around his neck, his gold watch, and loafers. Always. Of course there are variations in colors here and there, brown pants, grey pants, black pants ... striped shirts, solid shirts, etc.

Dad and Addi Dec. '06 - when I was supposed to be graduating from BYU-H

Dad always sends me flowers, even when I live thousands of miles away. The day I went to the hospital to have Gwen, I got flowers from Dad. During High School in Utah on Valentines, I got called to the office to pick up flowers from Dad. Thanks Dad. I love you.