It didn’t quite seem fair to post this on Father’s Day because even though it’s about my dear old dad, it made me laugh at his expense, so I figured I’d save it for the day after.
I received an interesting e-mail from one of you awhile back, though maybe “amusing” would be a better word. My mother and I laughed over it until we cried. I tried to respond, but the e-mail address included bounced, so if this e-mail came from you, please know that you made my day… week… month… okay, I’m still laughing.
The e-mail as originally written (somewhat abridged) is the text in black. My thoughts as I read it are in red. Here goes:
My son and I were at the local Wal Mart on the pickle isle when we ran into the cutest old man. (Islands shaped like pickles… little old men wrinkled up like pickles… so far so good.)
He noticed my son and started talking to him about being a scout and lots of fun facts about scouting… (Stalker alert… stalker alert…)
…not to mention that if a wasp stings you it will emit a poison into you that will cause other wasps to sting you as well…(Whoa, that happened to my dad once. Wasps chased him around for weeks.)
We were having the most delightful conversation with this stranger when he asked me if I liked music. (Oh. No. Dire forebodings… cue the horror movie underscore. )
I said “I love music”!
Then he said, “go to this website, it’s my daughter’s, you won’t regret it”. (Seriously? Again? Why oh why didn’t I publish under a pseudonym?)
Out of courtesy I rustled around in my purse to get him a pen and paper to write it down for me. (Oh good. NOBODY can read dad’s handwriting. I’m safely anonymous.)
When he finished and I looked at what he had written down I immediately recognized it as your website. (Shoots down that theory. So… hopefully you thanked him and escaped while you had the chance?)
My jaw dropped and I looked at my son, who also knew who you were from me talking about you. I said to your dad in amazement, (oh don’t… don’t do it…) “Do you know who your daughter is?” (**sigh** Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
All the while he just stood there beaming with pride (Aaaand here’s where fact turns to polite fiction… he just stood there? beaming? not talking? and I believe this?) as a dad naturally would… He just stood there and smiled and I was so grateful to be talking to your dad and to be able to tell him how much you had been a blessing in my life and you didn’t even know it.
We continued to talk a little more… (“We.” Meaning “he.” Yep.) He was so delightful. My son and I were very entertained (Meanwhile, mom was where? Undoubtedly waiting for him in the car.)
…and then he realized your mom had been out in the car waiting for him all of this time, which was quite awhile… (**facepalm**)
We said our goodbyes’ and he scurried off, forever leaving an impression on both my son and I. What a sweet man and a very proud father he was…
I cannot tell you how many times in his long life he has done this sort of thing.
Dad doesn’t “scurry” any more, but if you happen to run into a friendly, garrulous old man making his way slowly down the pickle aisle… if he happens to ask you if you like music… please remind him from me that his wife is waiting in the car.
And tell him I love him. 🙂