Monday -- October 4, 1999
Gler Flergen Glergen

I'm thinking about my Dad tonight, about how different we are as fathers.

When I was a kid, my Dad was about my age now, maybe a little older. He was always this distant figure. He was Authority, he was Adult, he was something of a stranger. Even when he and I lived alone together when I was 11, he was far away and unapproachable. He wasn't a bad man and he didn't abuse me, but he didn't exactly nurture me either. Warm fuzzies were in short supply.

I think it was the times that made him that way, coupled with his own upbringing. My dad grew up in an era where men were men and hid their feelings, and he grew up in an environment where there weren't many good feelings to be hidden in the first place. His dad died before he was born and his mother passed him off to ... someone -- family friends, maybe, or possibly her parents. So he had it hard growing up. But I know he did the best he could with me. I don't hold it against him.

But I used to. Harry Chapin's song Cat's in the Cradle always used to make me think of my dad. Now, that song's about a dad who doesn't have time for his kid, which wasn't my thing -- my dad just wasn't there for me emotionally -- although sometimes he wasn't there at all -- but I sure could relate. And I'd hear that line "And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me/ He'd grown up just like me/ My boy was just like me" and I'd swear I'd be different from my dad with my future kids.

This was during my angsty Bitter Young Man years, obviously.

I don't feel angry or bitter about it anymore -- much. Mike mentioned recently that he'd had to teach himself to tie a tie, and that caused a twinge of recognition. Phone company commercials get me sometimes. I sometimes regret that we weren't closer. But guess what? Water under the bridge. Let it go.

But those lyrics still hold truth for me. I'm keeping to the oath I swore. I'm different with Zoe. Boy, am I different. My dad was stern, strict, distant. We didn't hug, we didn't say "I love you," we didn't play together. As a dad myself, I do all these things. A lot.

I hug Zoe every day, several times a day. I kiss her constantly, stealing or cajoling or giving them. I tell her I love her, I tell her she's my best girl, I tell her she's my favorite peanut ever. I hold her hand, I carry her, I sit her in my lap for heart-to-heart talks.

As a dad, I am day to my dad's night. Zoe describes me best with what she calls me sometimes: Goofy Daddy. And I am that. I try hard to be.

One of my favorite things is the sound of Zoe's laughter. And so I'm always doing stuff to make her laugh. I make faces at her in the rear-view mirror when we're in the car. When carrying her, I ask if I can drop her on her head, just once, pleasepleaseplease? When I pick her up from school I pretend I can't see her as I look over her head, calling her name, while she jumps up and down saying "I'm right here, Daddy! Look down here!" I work it on a daily basis.

The title of tonight's entry is an example of my Goofy Daddy-ness. Every once in awhile I'll get a weird phrase stuck in my head and Zoe and I will yell it out the window as we drive home. Gler Flergen Glergen was today's inspiration. What does it mean? I dunno, but it has a variety of uses.

We yelled it at the car next to us at a stoplight. At some people at a bus stop. At the dogs through the mailslot in our front door. At Mommy when she came home and found us where we were hiding in plain view on the couch. Zoe loved it. She even improved on it: Gler Flerglen Glerglen. Because, you know, those extra L's do so much for it.

I was trying to figure out how to tie all this together and put a good ending on it just now, when it suddenly hit me what Gler Flergen Glergen means. And how it ties it all together.

Gler Flergen Glergen means: I love you, Zoe. And I love you too, Dad. I'm the dad I am because of the dad you were, so maybe you did okay after all. Thanks, Dad.

Gler Flergen Glergen.