Monday, October 24, 2005

Caloric love

On my mom’s side of the family, love has always been expressed through food. With us, love isn’t always vocalized – it’s a palatable taste. The secret ingredient in the cupcakes Grandma bakes us for Valentine’s Day. In the graham cracker baked for Mom’s birthday. The Christmas pudding. The soup mailed to dorms.

In the hotdogs we served up for Dad’s birthday.

My dad, you see, loves hotdog stands. Whenever we’re in a big city – Chicago, Toronto, New York – and not-so big cities like Ann Arbor – Dad practically sprints to the first hotdog stand he finds. It’s just one of those things. Predictable like the sunrise.

To surprise Dad for his 50th birthday, Mom, Meg and I catered a hotdog stand to serve lunch to Dad, his employees and coworkers. It was a complete surprise. And it was so fun to watch Dad sheepishly take it in, knowing that each and every one of those 250 hotdogs (along with the potato chips and cupcakes on the side) screamed “we love you, Daddy!” He was shocked. It was really fun.

I’ve enjoyed celebrating Dad’s 50th birthday. It’s fun seeing how much he is loved. The first time I realized how many people really care for him was when my Uncle Rich died; I didn’t see that love in such mass quantities again until Grandma died. It’s nice seeing it on a happy occasion. Everyone he works with respects him. And his best friends? They planned a surprise golf outing for his birthday. 15 guys. A Sunday morning. All for Dad.

I hope that, by my 50th birthday, I’ve made friendships and relationships strong enough to warrant a celebration like my dad’s. What he has is awfully special.


Stace said...

True Story. I want to have a BASH on my 50th.

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