The Way of the Dad, Part I

The other day, my dad sent me an email correcting one of my posts, Snake Oil, in which I mentioned that I inherited his goofy bow legs and something odd about his teeth. To set the record straight, his feet actually point out like a duck and his knees point more or less toward each other. (He agrees that “goofy” applies, in any case.) My legs do the same, but I’ll continue to call them bow legs because when I stand with my heels together you could just about pitch a softball through the space between my knees.

Also, he reports that his teeth are very nice, thank you, especially since he had the little gap in front fixed more than twenty years ago. I never had a gap, so I don’t really know why my mom thinks our teeth are weird. Maybe it’s just that they’re not Dolan teeth; they’re the teeth of the strangely smart, duck-footed Abbett clan.

There are plenty of things I wish I’d inherited from my dad but didn’t. As just one example, the guy can use his uncanny engineering and carpentry skills to create beauty, function, and spot-on soundness out of whatever happens to be at hand. If he doesn’t know how something works, not only will he figure it out, he’ll usually find a way to make it better. I can’t even replace a closet dowel without taking ten timeouts to calm my impatience. Also, I’m afraid of getting attacked by a shark in my own bathtub, but my dad is pretty much the equivalent of a pro boat driver and, in his past, he was a truly hotshot water skier.

But the most amazing thing is that my dad can play the drums so as to take the top of your head off. I know he’s my dad, but really, he’s that good. Click here to listen for yourself.

Happy Father’s Day, dad. I’m proud of you every day. And thanks for the waddle.

See The Way of the Dad, Part II.