My Dad is one of the quirkiest, most interesting people that I know. But he's more than just his quirks and his habits.
My Dad has always been supportive. I still remember one time when he had just gotten home from a business trip, and had got to bed at about 5:00 a.m. In less than an hour, the alarm clock rang, and off he went to the JH state volleyball tournament. In between games, he slept sprawled out in the car. But he was there, supporting my every under-hand serve and lobbed "spike."
I still remember morning hikes we took with him every Saturday morning at Warner park. But they were more than hikes! They were hours of hide-and-go seek, piles of leaves to be made and demolished, and teaching moments about why the tree bark was shredded from deer antlers. I still remember splitting Panera Bread Cinnamon Rolls run through the bagel slicer (so we could split them the "right" way-- his idea, of course.) and sampling their "bear claw" on a whim. Once again, he was there.
I remember his many bloody toes from getting a little bit too competitive into tag in our small kitchen/living room. But he was there. I remember his gross "candy turkey" made with leftover turkey from Thanksgiving and lots of brown sugar and butter. (Mom was sick, and he thought us kids would like it since it had plenty of sugar in it. He was wrong. ) But he was still there.
Come to think of it, he still is there! He supports me (thought not vocally) at my games, watches all my piano recitals, compliments me on my cooking, and holds long debates with me. We "debate" over volleyball rotations, discuss the woes of physics, and argue about why I should/shouldn't be an engineer. (He wants me to be, but I don't think so!)
He isn't perfect... he's missed some games and piano recitals for work. He has occasional bad moods and stressful moments. But I love him to pieces, and in my book, he's definitely got a winning record.