Happy Birthday, Dad

September 1979

He's known as Dad #2 to one of my college roommates. He's a favorite Facebook friend of many of my friends, some of whom he's never met or only met once. He is always an hour early to pick me up from the airport (well, except that one time but we'll blame mom). He spent hours driving alone on Michigan and Indiana highways to see me play golf in college and made me cry by showing up unexpectedly to my last ever match that was pretty far away. He sat with me and studied at the dining room table every single night the year I took AP American History (and probably learned more than I did). He made me practice my multiplication flash cards even though I never got much better. He will always, always, do the dishes after I cook or bake. He has stood outside of women's dressing rooms and gone to get different colors or sizes more times than I can fathom to count. And yes, he always holds our bags and purses. His laugh is infectious. To the point that we'll get giggling around the dinner table and it takes concerted effort to bring us all back past the point of crying.

He's had two holes-in-one so far in his golfing career. He's served his country in the Air Force and then again working for the State of Michigan for his entire career. He was the field trip dad and the choir concert parking lot manager (even if it was twelve degrees outside) and the parent who showed up at school when there was sickness or strife. He asks us what he should watch on television. He reads whatever I write and makes sure others read it too. He cries whenever anyone wins an award or a game or anything. (And as his daughter, I do too.) He devours books and crushes crossword puzzles. Ask him to help paint golf balls into garden ants? He starts an assembly line. Want a giant Jenga set for the yard? The next two days are spent in the garage cutting and sanding and staining.

January 1, 2017

There is nothing he would not do for me or Angela or my mom, or most likely anyone he knows. He's the guy who goes to the meetings, volunteers, helps set up or clean up, shows up at the party, tells the jokes, laughs at yours, and then asks, what's next? He's honestly the best man I've ever known.

Today Tommy Lee Knapp turns 70 years old. I've known him for only 39 of those years but I am blessed beyond belief. I am loved beyond belief, by him. Because he loves us all. Our family, our friends, my friends, people he's only heard me tell stories about. As my mom might say, tongue in cheek, he's perfect. Well, actually, he's human. But I'm so glad he's one of my humans.

I love you, Dad. More than words could ever express. I can't wait for our next adventure together.