Before Damaris sends me a guilt-inducing note about how I didn't acknowledge Father's Day, I'll post about my dad.

Things he does well:
- Tell his kids he loves them and is proud of them.
- Manage my mother. (And vice versa. Thank god they found each other. Sheesh.)
- Fix things, like with tools and stuff. It's pretty neat.
- Engage conspiracy theories. (For the last several months, he's insisted that the key to the Kennedy assassination is, to quote his oft-whispered insistence, "Two Oswalds.")

Things he does badly:
- Pass up french fries. Ever.
- Write. My mother has been trying to read his handwriting for more than 30 years, and I've never seen her successfully make it out.
- Remember things. Like mine and my sister's names. ("Uh, Teeny -- no, CC -- hey, you -- come here for a minute!")

Things I inherited from him:
- My nose. My whole face, my family insists, but I swear, I don't see it.
- 5 feet, 10 inches.
- Compassion & empathy.
- A really high butt.
- Intellectual curiosity.
- Difficulty passing up french fries.

This year, my siblings and I got him 6 months' worth of Netflix. He already has an account, since it was what I gave him for Father's Day three years ago; but fortunately, since he doesn't remember things (see above), it's a gift that we can keep on giving.