Well, I won. Shocked. And I was pretty happy about that. I think my dad was, too, until I told him that he had to clean the house because the reporter was coming over to interview us. Oops! Sorry I forgot to tell you about this whole essay thing, Daddy.
So I drove up to Detroit today to be here for the "big interview." They're not only publishing my essay, but they're doing a feature story on my dad and me, too. Pretty cool if I do say so myself.
So reporter lady gets here, and she wants to go "in depth" (because that's reporter speak for gossip) about the boyfriends my dad "grilled." Then I got all nervous and stuff. If you know me, you get it. I got all fidgety. Couldn't make eye contact. Because I totally wanted to link this whole Free Press article on facebook! And what if those boyfriends read it?! Because they have nothing better to do than click on a link I post, right?!
But I went for it anyway. I mean, who am I to stand in the way of her Pulitzer? I let it fly, ok? Yup. All the "woe is me" tales of broken hearts and Daddy making it all better. And don't worry - I didn't forget to talk about all the other stuff that makes him cool. Like his amazing speech at my wedding. Or the fact that he used to open for Bob Seger. I pimped him out. Hard.
And then, toward the end, I happened to mention his recent open-heart surgery. "Wow! That seems like a really big moment in your lives! Why didn't you mention that in your essay?" she asked.
Why? Because having your chest cut open and your heart stopped at 61 years-old isn't nearly as admirable, noteworthy, or challenging as being an amazing father for 29.
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