Dad used to mow a figure eight in the backyard so that I could occupy myself for hours running in loops.
When I told Dad that my imaginary friend, Cherry, lived at a house down the street, he let me take him there to ring the doorbell. Alas, my friend Cherry was not a resident.
Instead of reading a bedtime story, Dad would recite math equations, “4 + 6 is 10. 10 x 3 is 30. 30/2 is 15. 15 + 5 is 20. 20 x 5 is 100.”
When I was 5, our family went to Disneyland. Dad decided to take me on Space Mountain. I have never ridden an upside down roller coaster since. True story.

Dad was sympathetic when I explained, on a weekly basis, why I pissed my snowsuit during ski lessons. (I was too shy to ask the instructor to go to the bathroom.)
Dad bought me my first two cassettes, Berlin and The Bangles, “I think you’ll like the song Walk Like an Egyptian.” I did. Still do.
I had a slumber party for my ninth birthday and requested that Dad rent us Clue. He returned home with Stand By Me, which had me in tears. But then I was awarded cool points by my friends and was very pleased. It remains one of my most favourite films to date.
Dad let me snorkel in his bathtub.
There was a trundle bed in his basement and on occasion, Dad would push us into the wall over and over again as a fun activity on a rainy day.
Sometimes, when we were restless at night, Dad would put blankets in the back of his car and take Liz and I on a drive through Rosedale to spot raccoons. “Oh look, I saw one!” It was thrilling.
In 1990, Dad bought a Harley Davidson and it arrived in the hugest cardboard box ever. He helped me turn that box into the neighbourhood Dick Tracy club. Wicked.
When we were cold in the winter, Dad would microwave our pajamas.
One day I opened the freezer and our goldfish was just lying next to the pea bag. Apparently, Dad wasn’t sure what to do once it floated to the top of the aquarium.
Unlike Mom’s house, Dad actually let me paint pictures on my bedroom wall.
Since we always went to his house on Thursday nights, it became a ritual that we watch Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place with Dad. He got irritated every time Brenda and Dylan would break up with REM in the background.
At Club Med, Dad sat on a cake by accident. We didn’t realise until he got up and his pants were covered with chocolate icing. I asked him how he didn’t notice, “I thought it was a banana.” He said.
When I was a teenager, Dad explained to me, in a sort of science experiment way, the varying alcohol content of drinks. “Okay, one shot of vodka is as strong as one glass of wine or two light beers.” It was a thoughtful lesson that I understood but never applied.
Dad always got really into Halloween.
Recently, a black bear broke into Dad’s kitchen. He chased it out. Then he slept with an ax in case the bear returned. And it did.
Dad and I like to play ping-pong together.
I have a pomeranian named Rocky and Dad has a chihuahua named Hua-Hua.
It doesn’t matter whether an email is about income tax, my sister’s wedding or weekly Whistler updates, the subject line is always, “DAD”. Although this makes it really hard to find old emails, the consistency is comforting.
My dad has sailed across the Atlantic Ocean twice and driven around the world in eighty days. I think that makes my dad, well, rad.

Happy Father’s Day!
Love,
Jen