So, Father's Day...

So, Father’s Day. I saw a prompt that asked what your father taught you. I had to think about this. My dad wasn’t around for 90% of my childhood because he was a merchant marine and then later because my parents divorced. My father never gave me advice or nurtured my dreams or taught me how to cook pancakes or ride a bike. He never got me a puppy or went to my piano recitals. It was because he was so distant that I drank in everything about him.  What my dad taught me by my observation was style. He had impeccable style and grace. I drank in the smells of shaving cream, cigarettes, and coffee. The shoe polish and the car wax. The newsprint and Tony Bennett. The used bookstores and the swanky lunch spots. 

In college I started to dress like my dad. Penny loafers. Real cotton khakis. Nave blue wool sweaters. Oxford cloth shirts. I’ve haunted used booked stores and junk shops my whole life looking for a treasure. I love a good whiskey and magazines. Just like my dad. I look like him too. I have grown up to finesse my own style and to navigate through my life with a voracious curiosity and looking challenge right in the eye. I can do anything I want. My dad did and so do I.