UNSUNG HEROES

I did something dumb on the Monday before I left for Hawaii. I went to the bank after work to withdraw some dinero to take on my trip. There was only 1 space left on that whole first floor at the Wells Fargo lot and it HAD to be next to this huge ass Camry that parked, not only on HIS space, but inched right into the empty space next to it…the space I was going to try to get into. So, I’m trying to be all careful, moving ever so slowly when I heard this noise come from the front of the car. I thought I had run over a plastic bottle or something. When I got out of the car, ‘lo and behold, there were streaks of yellow paint on the left side of my bumper because I scraped against the stupid pole! Aaaaaaaahhhhh!!! It looked much worse than it really was. None of Raven’s paint (that’s my car’s name, Raven – Raven the Rav 4…ha ha ha…) was harmed. All the paint streaks came from that stupid yellow pole. Something like this ALWAYS happens to me before I leave for a trip. Before I left for England in 1999, my wallet was stolen; before I left for DC, I got into a really bad car accident; before I left for Hawaii LAST year, I ran over that freeway rail that punctured a hole in my oil tank and my front right tire. And then now this. But I learned in the last year not to overreact about stuff like this so I’m like, it’s ok, when I get back from Hawaii, I’ll clean it up and it’ll look just fine.

When we were driving to work last Tuesday morning, I suddenly remembered that that had happened the day before and I was telling my mom how I felt so sorry for my car. Then my mom says, “oh, daddy fixed it already.” When we got to the garage at work, I looked at my bumper and it was as if nothing happened. My dad had spent the night before cleaning it up. That’s just like my dad, always doing things for us and never waiting for acts or words of gratitude. I love my dad! I felt awful this past Sunday, Father’s Day, because I was in Hawaii, unable to celebrate the day designated to honoring the men who woke up in the middle of the night for midnight feedings, the one who sang and rocked us to sleep, the one who sterilized our bottles, the proxy who awkwardly tried to fix our hair before school if mom was sick, the family caretaker who stands in a shadow often to give mom most of the glory.

I don’t think dads get enough appreciation in this world. On tv, in movies, it’s always the dad who abandons the mom and the children and it’s always the dad who has the affair. Not all dads are this way but that’s how it appears sometimes, doesn’t it? When it’s Mother’s Day, you know it because the malls and restaurants are filled with signs reminding us and cable is chockfull of made-for-tv movies about moms. But when it’s Father’s Day, you see a sign here and there, and hardly anything on tv giving dad the recognition he deserves. Maybe it’s just me, but it’s only because I love my dad so much and I wish he got as much attention as mom does sometimes.

Here’s to all of our dads, on earth and in heaven! And to honor this most important male influence in my life, here’s…

Getting to know…

FORTUNATO D. GONDA, JR. aka DADDY
Vitals: Met when I was born cuz he was there! = 26 years and counting
Role In My Life: The Best Dad Ever – Not only is my dad the typical patriarch of the family, who drives us everywhere, pays the bills and makes sure the cars are always in good health, he’s also the epitome of Mr. Mom. Every Friday when I get home from work, the washing machine and dryer are already running cuz Dad likes to end the week with laundry. He does this well into early Saturday morning, after which he spends a good part of the afternoon folding everything (unless my sister and I…well, unless I run into a basket and fold it myself).
Good Times: Sometimes I feel bad that my dad didn’t have any sons. Both of his brothers have sons and sometimes I feel like my dad kinda wishes he had at least ONE to carry on the family name and to do guy things with. So my sister and I do what we can to help the situation. On some Saturday mornings, my sister will get up early to play basketball or tennis with my dad. I try to watch as many basketball games on tv with my dad as I can. It’s fun watching Laker games together. We get angry and yell at stupid plays and bogus foul calls and get excited, hi-fiving each other when Kobe can’t miss. Who needs a son when you’ve got 2 daughters who love their dad right?
In his own words: “Ok, Leng, just call me on my cellophone.” – Ha ha ha…I think he got telephone and cell phone mixed up. Oh dad...