Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Dad

I'm pretty sure there was no such thing as ADHD when my dad was little. I'm pretty sure because he was never diagnosed. Instead he was called, "hardworker," or "tireless," or "ambitious," or "irritating." He has super-human strenth like Jean Valjean. I mean that he is really, really strong but isn't a body builder. Also, he has this "I can do it" attitude that make everyone around him tired. If Dad is interested in trying something, he just does it (building guitars from scratch (that is working large planks of wood until they sing)restores cars; climbs mountains; sings barbershop; earned his degree through the mail while working full time and raising four children; and etc.). We always joke (but it's true) that if Dad is going to take on a huge project, like building a garage, putting in a bay window, adding on a room, he has to start at 11pm with a chain saw.


Some people, when doing a project, want the kids out of the way. Not my dad. We were to be right there. We can all find the correct tools, we all know how to read instructions, and we all learned to ignore the swearing because, as my mom constantly reminded us, "He's not mad at you, he's mad at the car."


None of my siblings, however, can hold a flashlight like I can. Seriously, I am good at keeping that light on the task.

Our dad taught us that we can do whatever we want. If we are willing to work and sometimes fail and keep trying, we can do it.


So a couple of days ago, I took my own chain saw (that's right, mine, not my husbands) and cut a big fat hole in our garage. Then I put in a door.


Thanks, Dad.

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