The other day, Laura shared her personal dark spots and the truths she’d initially ignored because dad’s can’t be wrong. After reading it I remembered that I still take my dad’s word as the gospel truth. And don’t I realize that he isn’t always right until I’m sharing some utter nonsense in a crowded conference room where I should be rubbing elbows instead of suddenly needing a fact checker.
Because my dad can definitely be wrong.
And I mean really wrong. Like, embarrassingly wrong. And not for him, but for me. For way too long I thought that the tail side of a penny had a trolley on it. And if you looked really close, you could see a little man riding it. There was a period of my life where I checked every penny for that man, checking to see if he was always the same person or not, figuring that if the US Mint was creative enough to put a trolley on a coin they’d have a little fun with it. To my disappointment it was always the same guy and always in the same spot.
What’s my point? Even though I’m all grown up (or something) and out of the house and doing my own thing, I am very aware of the fact that I don’t know everything. And even as I reach an age where the conversations with my dad are less and less him telling me what is right and true in the world and more and more of a conversation between equals, I’m still his little girl. I mean that in more than one way, yes, I am my father’s daughter. And yes, he will probably always see me as his little girl. But also, I will always see him as my hero, an infallible source, and the man with all the answers and I do this almost on purpose. Because if he doesn’t know all the answers, who does? And if he isn’t sure, how can I be? If my role models aren’t the gods I thought they were, what about all the other things I was certain about in my youth? What about all the other things I’m certain of now?
So yes, I thought that the Lincoln Memorial was a mode of transportation. And yes, I tend to be a little on the gullible side. But I’m probably not the only one in the history of the human race on the cusp of a major change clinging to pieces of their past. I’m not encouraging you not to move on, to not grow up, or whatever. I’m all for progress. But maybe, for all their faults and all the times they assured us that Grandpa dated Shirley Temple (just me?), our dads can still be the heroes we thought they were. It may be time to cut them a little slack.
More truths and lies courtesy of my dad: If you’re driving in a convertible and get caught in the rain with the top down you can, and he’s swears he’s done it, stay dry by driving fast. Something about the aerodynamics of the car. And it turns out, to his credit, that this is true. Another factoid from his car days, driving with the tailgate down or take it off altogether, your truck will get better gas mileage. Something about the aerodynamics of the car, er, truck. Turns out, that this isn’t true. Survey says: I probably shouldn’t have my dad help me with my homework…