My father taught me how to drive. He told me that I should always have my ID on me, no matter what. He said that I should know how to change my own car tires (I've ignored that one. Sorry, Dad). He always calls me baby. He worries about me and he asks me for advice about things internet-related, which makes me feel smart. He wears a Nascar jacket and he loves it but he doesn't follow racing at all. He shares his chocolate with me. He's had the exact same haircut for my entire life. If I wandered into the room when he was shaving, he'd splash his face with aftershave and then get me with it, too. He called me Squirrel and my brother, Monkey. Now he says I'm squirrely. He gave me my love of reading. He's supported everything I've ever done, even when he was pretty sure that it wasn't the best idea I've ever had. In fact, it was a pretty often a terrible idea but he'd be right there, behind me all the way. I don't think I've ever told him how much I appreciate that.
We don't agree on everything but I know what's most important - he loves me and I love him right back and that will always be true.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy.