An Ode to my Dad

Me and Dad, circa 1975

Happy Father's Day!  It was the Father of Psychology himself, Sigmund Freud, who said, "I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection." 

Despite my parent's contentious divorce when I was 7, my Dad was always a consistent force in my life-- I never had to question whether he'd show up, offer his help or advice...he was there for my younger brother and me.  And I always felt protected by him.  I still do.

When I was younger, I used to think I could never please him-- but it was only because he understood my capabilities and pushed me to be my best.  He used to say, "You're like a thoroughbred race horse-- how are you going to win if someone isn't there to push you harder?!"  It was sometimes to my chagrin-- but he was that person, cracking the whip when I needed it the most.  Looking back now, I credit my Dad with instilling that sense of 'fight' in me--- and I still call him when I need to be reminded.  I just did today, in fact.

One of my favorite stories about Dad was right around the time my parents split up.  It was 1982 and Jordache jeans were all the rage.  I'd been begging my Mom to buy me a pair-- I simply HAD to have them, but they were $40, which back then, was a small fortune.  My Mom's 'single mother' status meant that Jordache jeans were not "in the budget."  She would say, "I'm sewing my own dresses for work and you want me to spend that kind of money on a 2nd grader?  I don't think so!"

On weekends, my brother and I went to my Dad's apartment.  He'd pick us up in his old 1971 Volvo and take us out for Mexican dinners on Friday night and let us order Shirley Temples and Virgin Piña Coladas.  One Friday after Dad picked us up, he said he had to stop by Hecht's Department store.  I bee-lined for the rack of Jordache jeans.  I was so tiny back then, I was eye-level with the hangers.  I remember running my hand over the embroidered pockets, lost in a little girl day dream, just envisioning how cool I'd look wearing a pair.  


"So which ones are you going to pick out?"

I was startled from my Jordache daze...I looked up and there was my Dad, grinning at me.

"But Dad, they're $40!"  I stuttered.

"Well then, I guess you better pick out a pair that's going to last you a while!" He winked.

It was a moment I will always remember.  Dad bought me my first pair of Jordache jeans-- and I think I might have worn them every day for 6 months.  They got more and more faded, and when I finally grew out of them, I cut them off and wore them for another couple years as Jean shorts!

Somewhere, I have a pic of me in those jeans-- I'll have to look for it.

Thanks for those jeans, Dad....and for everything you've done to remind me to be ME.  You have helped me grow into the woman I am today.  I am so lucky to call you my Dad.


xxoo