A Fathers Appreciation Post + 3 Things to Share

Happy Father’s Day!

First, an unsolicited advert for Nintendo:

To everyone: Isn’t this the coolest father-daughter commercial you’ve ever seen?  Perfect for today.
To Legend of Zelda OoT fans: Isn’t this the coolest commercial you’ve ever seen, like, EVAR?  I want it, I want it, I want it.

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Second, something a little more filial:  To all the Fathers, Fathers-to-be, and to those who have acted as a Father figure to others, VTP sincerely wishes you a wonderful, relaxing day.

Since my own dad is out of state for the weekend, I told him I’d abuse my editorial privileges for a day and leave a message for him here.  Normally, I’d just call him up as I’m not one for public displays of affection, but I thought posting my own candid appreciation might encourage others to speak more earnestly to their fathers too.  You’re free to scroll pass the coming sentimentalism if it’s not your thing; in fact, if you’ve already sealed your Father’s Day card and are ready to hand it off, then I urge you to scroll by, because this kind of thing is revealing and I’m already getting a little nervous.  Before I regret it, here goes:

Pops, thanks for raising me for the past twenty-something years.  I know we clash, and that half of our conversations turn into derisive mocking of one another, but I’m your daughter, you’re my father, and there’s no denying it.  Anyone looking at us can immediately tell since we look so much alike–and you know how looking like you drives me batty because mom is so obviously the better looking parent.  But anyway, that just goes to show that the influence you’ve had on me is written on my face, just as it is written in my character and in the choices I’ve made as a first generation Vietnamese American.

You, like so many war-era children, had your education unfairly truncated.  Because of that, you strove to ensure that I would receive a quality education, even if that meant working yourself to the bone, literally.  You’re what, 5’9″ and 110 pounds? That’s like Kate Moss skinny, but no modeling scout will ever sign a mustached 53-year-old Asian man, and you just don’t have the natural rakishness of Brother Sharp, so don’t even try that on me.  Please eat more, dad.  And stop smoking too.  (Yeah, I just called you out in public.  Now you have to do it.)

Thanks to your support, I’ve always been able to study what I wanted free of distractions.  You never pushed me to be a doctor, lawyer, or accountant.  You gave me the freedom to forge my own path, but in so doing, you surrendered your own freedom to 18-hour workdays.  Your sacrificial actions have done more than provide me monetary support; you taught me work ethics as well.  I see how dedicated you are to your craft, I see the pride you take in your products, and I see how reliant your clients have become on you–you, the man with no college degrees.  I mention that not as a put-down, but cite it as evidence that you are one who has risen above what fate has dealt him.

When I was angry with you and tried to use the Vietnamese proverb “Cong cha nhu nui Thai Son, nghia me nhu nuoc trong nguon chay ra” against you, arguing out that a mountain’s height is finite while a stream can flow eternally (if not for global warming and cyclical seasons, I suppose), you put me in my place again.  You pointed out that, often, the strength of the water flow is tied to the height of the mountain.  In your own weird logic, you reminded me that a father’s role is equally important as a mother’s

You have a ton of quirks, some I love and some I hate.  Of the latter category, you have a booming Vietnamese voice that makes it seem like you’re always shouting, even when you’re not.  You leave peanut shells everywhere and you’re often short-tempered…but I guess that’s expected since you were born in the Year of the Fire Rooster.  Of the former category, you make some of the best conspiracy theories I’ve ever heard, and your deadpan delivery always gets me.  Your singsong way of speaking turns everything into a jingle–so useful when mom gets mad at me.  I love how ever since I came of age, anytime anyone suggests a family vacation, your knee-jerk reaction is, “Cache Creek?”  That’s totally middle-aged Asian of you.

Thanks dad.  Thanks for everything.  Thanks for continuing our unusual family tradition of assigning different last names  across generations and genders so that you, mom, the brothers and I all have different last names.  It comes in handy when you’re doing something embarrassing and I want to disclaim our relationship; I can tell people I’m adopted and they’ll believe me.

Thanks for letting speak to you on a first-name basis.  I know you’re convinced that it’ll horrify ultra-conservative parents if I’m caught calling you by name instead of title, but I’m also convinced that this just proves that we have a relationship that can be jocular as much as it one of parent and child.

Thanks for being there, for doting on me, for being my Old Man.  If you didn’t understand parts of this message, don’t worry, I’ll translate.  I know your English has improved by leaps and bounds ever since you started trolling the internet though.  I made sure I didn’t write anything to blush-inducing, but just so you come back in good spirits, here’s my ending proposition: Cache Creek sometime?  I’ll drive.

That was my message; what are you telling yours?

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Finally, if that was too saccharine for any of you readers and you now feel to need to rinse out the sweet with something a little more humorous, head on over to www.mydadisafob.com for some shorter stories of parental silliness.  My favorite entry is this one.  I happen to think the site is a good way to bond with your father too.