photo taken by my dad

The little tow-headed tyke gripping my hand? Why that would be Mookie, of course--my baby brother who is now the father of two lovely boys of his own.

So here's the real question: Time, what's your damn hurry?

Thank goodness my dad was a serious photographer because if it weren't for him there would be literally no record of our childhood outside of those hideous annual school photos which are, let's be honest, merely fodder for blackmail. I use that word serious, seriously. If there are photographs of him without his camera either around his neck or in his hand, they are in short supply and are most likely group wedding shots where he is smiling with the impatience of a man who wants to get out from in front of the camera and back to where he is most comfortable, behind the lens.

We gave, er perhaps continue to give, my dad quite a lot of grief about his photo snapping. Sweet little phrases churlish offspring are wont to scream.

"Dad, stAAAHHHHHp, you're making me crazy."

"I'm not moving again. The background is FINE."

"Stop. No, I won't turn my head."

"Jesus Christ, Dad. Take the goddamn picture, the background is FINE."

"Fine. Fine. I've moved. You happy now?"

Ah, yes. Five sweet darling children my father has. Each with a set of exceptionally well-functioning tongue, teeth and palate.

Of course, one of my father's most exceptional qualities is his capacity for forgiveness. Truly. I would put this at the very top of the long list of things that I most admire about him. He is extraordinary in the way he loves us kids. I have done awful things, said terrible things, and behaved most badly and yet, his delight in me is unfailing.

We are very different people, my father and I. Very different. There are significant points of disconnect now that one of us has grown up (and by one of us, I mean me). And yet, without a doubt, the reason I'm okay is because of his light-hearted spirit, his love of all things fun and playful, his delight in the silly, and his interest in creating things whether its photographs or gardens or model airplanes--and his adoration of me.

I mean really, if your dad thinks you are the most perfect and beautiful girl in the world and laughs at all your jokes, life can't help but to work out, non?

But enough of that, I'll get all choked up when what I want to ask you all is---

how about that dress?!!!

You can't tell from the photo that it was pink and white striped seersucker, but it was. And look at the tone on my upper arm-- damn, I believe this is all the proof you needed that I peaked at five years old.

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