DAD STORIES: Reasons I admire my father

My old man is a barrel of laughs. And a wooer all right. From the jokes I hear him fire away while chatting my mother, it is clear his finesse in crafting pun bowled her over the first instance they broke ice.

What kind of moves did he pull on her? I have always desired to find out. And find out I will, some day.

Yet, even funnier, is how mum first appears to be unaffected by dad’s jokes. But once the joke hits home, she hides her face in her hands to laugh as dad walks away content about his accomplished task, because, well, my mother can sometimes choose to be incredibly icy.

The most mysterious thing though is that beneath my dad’s charm and cheery demeanour lies a cryptic maze. Not even my mother has ever pieced together this mystery, 30 years on.

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

An attempt to decipher his next move always ends in futility. How he delights in keeping us guessing about his plans! Mum has a special aversion for suspense, but thankfully, dad never disappoints.

When mum corners dad in a conversation, and corner him she does a lot, dad will usually entangle himself in his own arguments, giving mum enough ammunition to floor him. Then mum will say: “Joe, listen to yourself!”

Whether he enjoys letting her win an argument or if she genuinely outwits him, only the pair can tell. But their babbling constitutes a gripping orchestra. 

But it is his personality of genuine humility that is most heart-warming. His ability to keep his shirt on when things are boiling over at home is another quality of my dad’s that I fancy, an attribute I wish to emulate.

When bummed out, mum will often let off some steam for minutes on end. All the while, dad will wear his cool like a garment of honour, and say, Tout ira bien (everything will be fine) almost too casually, but with meaning.

It has been a long moment waiting for when dad will finally bring up the subject of my love life. For a bloke who is now well above 25 years, I find it quite out of the line that he has never asked, even in the vaguest terms, about my romantic life.

I have been wondering all this while: What goes on in his mind? Has he been expecting me to surprise him? Wait. Or does he assume that I bat for the other team? God forbid. But I look forward to the day he will ask.

When he wants some money to sort this and that thing back at home, he will often call my older brother first. Then he will reach out to me shortly afterwards with the same request. For me, he does not state things in cast-iron terms, but I can always tell where our conversation is headed to. And, yes, he remembers to edit his script very well.

And Joe is a gentleman. When he asks for money, he always pays back. Like a Lannister.

GREAT ADVICE

I have absolutely nothing against family men who booze. But I could not be happier to have a teetotaller for a father.

While he could get absolutely leathered as a young man, seeing as my late grandmother was a renowned maker of traditional brew, today, dad can’t touch alcohol with a barge pole.

A session with him never lacks counsel through reflection. And, of course, a generous serving of humour.

Having been raised by a mostly absentee father who notoriously shirked his familial duties, dad has been keen on cultivating good virtue in his sons.

My siblings and I would probably stand no chance of success were it not for his guidance. Thank you, dad. You have raised a responsible son.

Occasionally I feel rubbish about the progress in my career, and ask for his opinion. He will then drill sense through my head by use of hard facts, but always with a light touch.

The line “Jim, pushing your luck can’t move things” features prominently during our father-son banters. Not because he doesn’t trust my ability to flourish in journalism; but because he has lived long enough to know that ultimate fulfilment in any profession results not from constant job-hopping and ranting, but as a reward for sticking to one’s course.

To him, being aggressive without modesty is hollow. And he has never got it wrong.

He turns 64 this November. And he doesn’t look 50 yet. At this age, he radiates vitality and energy like a forty-year-old.  And this has nothing to do with the story of Julian Mantle in Robin Sharma’s The Monk who sold his Ferrari. I doubt he has ever heard about the book. Whether he has read it is a different matter altogether.

But some day I hope to find out his secret to maintaining such a trim physique for so many years – that’s a mission I hope I will succeed in.

Happy Father’s Day dad!

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What would you like your dad to know this Father’s Day? Can you say it in 800 words? Email: [email protected]