Thursday, August 19, 2010

Mistaken Identity

I used to be a math teacher.

Before I lost all of my brain cells during childbirth.

Or maybe I lost them afterwards...or maybe I lost them staring at this computer screen.

But I used to be a high school math teacher.

The number one thing students used to ask me, other than "Can I have a hall pass? a pencil? your wallet?" was, "Are you going to tell us a story about your dad today?!!"

My dad. Complex in thoughts, but simple in living. Easily bored, probably needs some Ritalin, a man's man, a great dad. By trade, he is a mechanical engineer without the official degree. An inventor to the layperson.

One time, we were watching the Discovery Channel - he does that - and there was footage from inside the newest NASA shuttle. He points to a little doodad in the far corner of the screen.

"See that?" he asks nonchalantly. "I made that."

Of course you did, Dad.

He made my math class so much fun. There wasn't a math lesson that didn't have a dad-in-real-life application. One time, he and my mom stopped by my classroom and I have never seen high school boys so quiet in all my life. Suddenly, they were sitting up straighter, chests out, and one even asked if he needed an extra welder in his shop. Dirty is cool if you work for him, or so said every boy in high school. I think there might have been other things said, which prevented me from getting many serious dates in high school, something along the lines of, "Whatever you do to my daughter...I'll do to you."

One time, a boy came to pick up my twin sister and Dad marched out into the living room wearing a really short bathrobe and cowboy boots. If that wasn't enough, he sat down with his rifle across his lap. We all laughed and so did he. But he also had this amazing gift of discernment, knew the boy was up to no good...and did not budge from that chair.

I could go on and on about my dad. He's that great.

But this post is much more surface-y than that.

This post is really written with one purpose - to tell you all that if you are looking for a Brett Favre look-alike, my dad is one.

Apparently, while my dad was shopping with my mom in Chicago this week, a very excited man on a cell phone was exclaiming, "It's him! He's right here in the store! Brett Favre!" and pointing at my dad.

Even sweeter than that was my mom's response: "And Karen, he really does look like that guy."

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