Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder (Of Your Father)

They say “absence makes the heart grow fonder”, but I believe a nice additive to this is “especially when you miss your father” because it kind of rhymes if you pronounce things a certain way  and also it’s very timely given that today is Father’s Day. 

I’m a little sad that I cannot celebrate this day with my Dad given that I am thousands of miles away and the flight home for the weekend was deemed impractical by those who fund me, ironically ½ of whom I was just trying to celebrate.  It didn’t help that yesterday, inexplicably, the bars/clubs we visited to celebrate my friend’s birthday were chockfull of father figures, just swaying and snapping their fingers and doing all sorts of Dad things. 

Watching dads try to dance always takes me back to a simpler time, although not that much simpler because it required a good bit of planning, my quinceañera, pictured here. It is very purposefully not a video because neither of us can dance but it’s not my fault because I inherited this flaw.

I wanted to approach each and everyone of these rad dads and try to teach them to ask “How ya doin’?” in the same, selective-listening-but-well-meaning way my own Dad does dozens of time each day, but I knew it wouldn’t be the same and also I’m a little wary of Fathers who love Fiestas. 

I’d like to quote a song, as chicas my age have been known to do, that I listen to a lot while I run here in Madrid, You and I, the Gaga version: 

“There’s only three men I’m gonna love my whole life, it’s my daddy, and Nebraska, and Jesus Christ.”

This is a great example of two truths and a lie because I could not be more indifferent about Nebraska, but short story long, I am really fond of my Dad and also my Grandpas and since I can’t cherish them in person this year and they won’t hear me even if I shout it from the rooftops given the ocean in between us, the next best option is to share it with the Internet, especially since Dad is the one who taught me not to be gullible or foolish (the foundation on which I built this blog/my life) and also because Papa can skillfully maneuver his iPad now -don’t believe what you might have heard about old dogs and new tricks.

If you haven’t met my father, Tony, I’d like to ask you a whole lot of follow-up questions about how you spend your days.

You will have a chance to right this wrong if you attend the highly-anticipated, but not at all exclusive, annual 4th of July Parade in Lisle this year. He’s a Village of Lisle Trustee, which means you can also catch him live on TV if you watch village meeting broadcasts, but I really recommend the parade because Lizzie and Brittany are going as my proxies this year and the Dad, Lizzie, Brit trio promises to prove that three is in fact, a magic number. 

My dad is a creature of habit and while these habits sometimes irk me, I cannot deny that I am really missing them at the moment. Tony is definitely a hugger and I usually am kind of cold in my reciprocation or lack thereof, but now that I’ve been greeting Spanish strangers with two cheek kisses upon first meeting (something I will never get used to and have been asked to redo because I am so unnatural and tense), I could really use just a normal, American hug from my dad.

I miss how he laughs at his own jokes and then eventually we join in and I miss how he provides the best "game food" for my brothers and I.

I miss his reactions to the absurder things in life, like selfie sticks, which are more prevalent here in Europe than water or bathrooms, but I’ll save that rant for another time when my Dad can add his two-cents. 

He always makes sure the restaurants he chooses have some sort of vegetarian food I can eat and he does not hesitate to share his opinions when I pick a place that specializes in this all-natural type of cuisine. “It’s interesting.” - Tony at Urth Café, where all the food is Instagrammable

I think the best way to summarize my Dad, for those who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him or the blessing of living with the guy for 18+ years, is in his most used expressions. “How ya’ doin’?” I already mentioned, but it’s iconic. “Wanna go see a movie?” and usually I don’t but best believe that’s one of the first things on my To-Do list when I’m back.  “Who takes care of you?”- which is his favorite question whenever he brings me guacamole or a salad from Casey’s and I often treat it as rhetorical but the fact of the matter is we both know I’d have perished long ago without him.

And most importantly, “I’m proud of you.” To the other parents who might be reading this, which wouldn’t surprise me because I’m well-received by parents much more so than by my own contemporaries, the best thing you can do for your kids, besides feeding and clothing them and giving them ice cream and letting them go abroad, is telling them you’re proud of them.

Dad’s been telling my brothers and I he’s proud of us ever since I can remember and over the years, what with my lengthy awkward stage and laundry list of weaknesses, there have been a number of times when he really shouldn’t have been, in my case, at least.

 Oh, young Grace. That face is truly one that only a father could love. 

And on this Father’s Day, I’d like to go into full DJ GCarb$ mode and turn these tables, to express how proud I am of him. For working so hard but knowing what’s more important in the grand scheme of things, for looking out for everyone but never expecting recognition or anything in return, and for being so generous with his time and talents.

Also, he’s a pretty good story-teller, though as I’ve grown older and wiser, I have begun to doubt the truth value of some of his taller tales about his childhood (I do believe that Aunt Pat chased the bullies away with a shalaylee, though).


So Happy Father’s Day to the man who openly admitted and even proudly introduced me as his daughter in good times and in bad, to the man who helped me keep my pocket knife by sweet-talking to the courthouse security guard on Take Your Kid to Work Day, to the man who feels the need to paint the mailbox every time we have a party, and most importantly to the man who taught me that everything can be funny, if you just laugh, even if it's your own joke and the crowd may not be loving it.

I’ll conclude with one of his best one-liners, after I caught sight of myself in a mirror and confronted him angrily for genetically predisposing me to a life with an imperfect complexion.

“I didn’t give you your acne, but I may have given you heart disease.”

ADDITIONALLY,
Since Grandparent’s Day is sort of  treated like a second-tier holiday, probably just under Groundhog’s Day, I’d also like to honor my grandFATHERS right here, right now.

Papa will turn 84 in July and has never not beat me in Squash, except when he plays by “Grace Rules” and lets me re-serve several times. He is an active member, borderline local celebrity, at the YMCA by his house and the only indicator of his plethora of years is in his wisdom. 

 I know how to ski because of Papa’s guidance and patient boat driving and I try to be super eco-friendly because Papa was “green” before that was even a thing. He even washes and reuses plastic sandwich bags and I’ve seen him with my own two eyes take the used chopsticks from the restaurant and use them for kindling at a subsequent bonfire.

Papa can talk to anyone and does talk to everyone and whenever we’re out and about together, I know we’re going to meet a few new friends. 

The first 5K I ever ran was with Papa and he and Grandma, between the dozen or so grandkids and great-grandkids, have probably been to more games of all sorts of sports than most season ticket-holders.  

Like a fine wine or Madonna or a coin collection, Papa gets better with age and that’s especially impressive because he’s always been great. Whenever Bailey, my poorly-trained but good-natured dog, wakes Papa up from a nap, he is never mad, because that’s not his style, and he wasn’t really sleeping he was just, “resting his eyes.”

So happy (grand)father’s day to the man who is so hospitable and laidback that he biannually prepares  a separate dish of vegetarian, gluten-free stuffing for his granddaughter with low-maintenance aspirations, without thinking twice.

And though I’m not sure if there are blogs in Heaven,  (I sincerely hope there are because I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say throughout eternity) I can’t forget Grandpa Carballo, a man who made us proud of our roots, who was bullied by Fidel Castro in elementary school and lived to tell and retell the story of the stolen lunch money, who was a harmonica aficionado and could play the sweetest tunes you ever did hear without his hands AND without his teeth, if you were exceptionally lucky, and who gave us all the amazing gift that keeps on giving- our loud and loving family.  

So, Happy Father’s Day to all, wherever you may be, especially to mah main 3 patriarchs of the fam. I’ll never be down for this patriarchal society, (in fact I have a whole other blog about that), but when it comes to men, you fellas are top of the line.