I could literally write a novel about all the wonderful things my dad does and about all the sacrifices he’s made for me. I won’t here and now, but I could.
My dad is pretty much legendary. He has more friends than any person I’ve ever met, and truly cares about them all and knows all the details of their lives. My friends think he’s epic and he somehow remembers all their names and details and asks me how they are. His jokes are legendarily corny, but also still somehow funny. He likes puns, too. A week after spinal surgery, the fitbit I bought him for Chanukkah informed us that he had walked 5,000 steps that day. What?!
From that time he saved a burn victim at a hotel in Alaska to the time he fixed up a woman who walked through a plate glass window at a museum in Wyoming to that time he helped a heart attack victim at a restaurant in New York, I grew up thinking my dad was pretty much a super hero.
Basically, my dad is awesome and deserves the greatest Father’s Day in the whole world.
(Bonus picture of my grandma, who is turning 90 this week. She looked fabulous 22 years ago (She was 68 there! Incidentally, I was terrified of her as a baby- check out Itty Bitty Emma’s expression.) and looks fabulous now.)