When I was roughly the same age as Alec in the above photo, I remember sitting on the floor in preschool. We were all of us preschoolers, sitting on the floor, waiting for the end of the school day, waiting to be picked up.
The class door was open onto the parking lot. And, as I waited, I remember looking out the door and seeing my dad, just all of the sudden. There he was. He stood in the parking lot, still in uniform, backlit by the sun. I couldn’t even really see his face but, of course I recognized him. He looked ten feet tall. He looked solid and immovable.
That’s how I remember it.
And I remember I was thrilled to see him. I was excited to be going home. I was excited and proud to be picked up by him, to be seen with him.
As I got older, I stopped wearing my adoration on my sleeve. That’s how kids are. We’re eager to grow up. We’re eager for independence.
But, through all the various, self-centered phases of my childhood and adulthood, my feelings about him never really changed.
47 plus years later and I’m still proud to be his son.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.