My dad has always been one of my biggest fans. When I didn't make the seventh-grade basketball team, I didn't want to disappoint him, so didn't tell him for a few days. Of course he wasn't mad--he just wanted me to succeed in whatever I did.
During either my junior or senior year of high school, he was the only parent to make the hour-plus drive and travel to Waukegan to watch us play a very bad Waukegan team in soccer. Another time he held up a sign that said, "Yea Darcy" when I marched in band for the Memorial Day parade. When I had knee surgery, he was the one who took me home and got me some milkshakes to make me feel better. He surprised me during my soccer playing days in college to make the drive to Peoria and brought said "Yea Darcy" sign to cheer me on. He's the one who knows what food will cheer me up and make my tummy happy. He's the one who gets my kids excited about all things hockey (and buying them hockey jammies and has little inside jokes with them (for the longest time, Riley was convinced that one of Papa's favorite animals is an X-Ray fish).
I love my dad dearly, even though he can at times be a stubborn guy. I tend to get my stubbornness from him. There were times growing up when we butted heads and didn't get along. But through it all, I love being a daddy's girl. I hope Riley has a similar relationship with Phil when she gets older.
Happy birthday, Daddio. I love you.
Holding Riley when she was about one month old.
Reading a book to Jeremy (who is wearinghis Oilers shirt) and Monkey George.
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