Fathers: Joe Gannon

Joe Gannon is great. The way he encourages me to post more often, the way he’ll whisper a story idea in my ear and beg for none of the credit when the story’s well-received, or the way he’s introduced me to a great many ridiculously out-of-this-world cool things, at times our relationship feels more like that of a father and son than of two friends with similar interests and a similar disposition.

Then, I remember he’s actually a dad, and from the sound of things, a pretty great one. The other day, he called me, “Quade’s going through one of those ‘Exactly like dad things.'” He went on to break it down, head-to-toe, from bikes to button downs, the kid is his father’s son. Joe wrote a letter to Quade for Father’s Day. He was kind enough to share it here.

###

Dear Quade,

It’s Fathers Day, June 20th, 2010. I’ve always be keen on the idea of capturing a moment in time and preserving it, time capsule style, to be read and shared at a later date. My dad (your Pop) was never one to bog me down with fatherly advice; rather, he let me pass through my youth learning lessons on my own. That’s not to say he didn’t help steer, but he never pushed. In keeping with that I will trust that the boy you are today is a good indication of the man you’ll be in the future. Instead, I want to tell you about who you are…who you are at THIS moment in time. I’m not sure how old you’ll be when you finally stumble across this, but I’m 33 years old as I sit here writing these thoughts to you.

You are 5 going on 6 in a few short weeks. As you met me at the door the other night, you insisted that you want your birthday party this year to be all about “rock and roll”. You meet me with something like this almost every night, and it’s by far the best part of my day. For the party you want me to build you a stage on the deck and move all of our music gear out there so you and your friends can beat and bang, strum and sing. I know already that’s exactly what we will end up doing.

Right now you are obsessed with “The Final Countdown” by Europe. Not sure how exactly it happened, but you can sing almost every lyric. You ask me almost daily to play it for you. Each play lends itself to at least 2 or 3 more demands to “…hear ‘The Final Countdown’ one more time…please?” I can’t wait for you to move to a different song, though I know I’ll miss the boys from Europe once it passes. You just LOVE music…and I love that about you. Not a day goes by that you aren’t strumming a guitar or banging a drum. If I were to wager a guess, I’d say you might have a chance to make a career of it.

You also really love baseball. You’re not the best on your team, but you hold your own out there. I think the fascination with baseball started sometime around the time you first discovered “The Sandlot.” You inscribed (scribbled) Babe Ruth on every ball that passed through your hands. Oftentimes, you’ll pretend that our chocolate lab Cash is the beast dog. He sits confused while you attempt to rescue the ball from his treacherous grasp. He has eaten the cover off many a ball, so maybe you’re not far off with your roll play. You have even asked me if our neighbor on the other side of the fence looks like James Earl Jones’ character. He doesn’t, but it’s fun to pretend he does.

You have the imagination of Jack and The Beanstalk.

You play well by yourself, but fit in easily with friends and strangers alike.

You like to talk to adults and they get a kick out what comes out of your mouth.

You ask good questions and demand good answers.

You are fascinated with the stars and all things outer space.

You are patient with your adorable, but otherwise demanding little sister.

You love to fish, to camp with your Pop, and you swear you’ll be shooting a deer with your little bow on the first day of the season this year.

You are allergic to cats, but it hasn’t deterred you from loving Mr. Kitty with all you have.

You can pop a small wheelie on your bike, stick your foot in the front tire to make the back wheel endo, and I can tell from your smile that my days of building bike ramps is fast returning.

You are tan as a berry by mid June.

You learned to swim last year and have been inseparable from the ocean ever since.

Your favorite cookie is a Snickerdoodle.

You tell me all the time you want to be just like me and that makes me the luckiest Dad in the entire world.

Love you bub.

Dad