Dear Dad,

by irms

It’s been a while since we last spoke, hasn’t it?  No need to place blame.  I think we both know what happened.

Let me bring you up to speed:

  • I know you know about grandpa, no need to go into a whole story about that.  Say hi to him for us.
  • Your son got married (Jeanine, thank the Lord). They bought a house, and you now have two grandchildren.  They’re both going to be wicked smart, which scares the pants off of all of us because we know we’re about to be outwitted by amateurs.  Heaven help us when they are old enough to band together; we won’t stand a chance.
  • Your other daughter went to “medical school” and she worked for several years in a gastroenterology clinic.  All her good stories start with, “So I was in the middle of this colon, right?”… She’s a perfect copy of you, dad, but with mom’s nose and without the military background.  Mom’s pissed that she’s just like you, but the rest of us are glad about it.
  • Mom is still working at CART and even though they treat her well, I think she’s ready to retire.  Not that we blame her.  Just how many years can a person deal with high school kids?
  • Dre — you remember Dre, right? She had the tongue piercing and the red streaks in her hair? — has a handle on the whole family.  I swear dad, if it wasn’t for Dre there wouldn’t be a family left to speak of.  And, oh yeah, she took out the tongue ring and her hair is brown.

As for myself, I graduated from college and moved back home shortly after.  College was fun after I got over being homesick, but before that it sucked.  I’ve been both lucky and unlucky in love, which, I know if I gave you a word in edgewise you’d have  plenty to say about that.  But I’m not going to.  You can write your own letter.

I have a dog, and I bought a car.  We found out there is something wrong with the way my brain is put together, but that story has a long explanation.  Let’s just say, you would have a field day poking fun at me, but you would also be scared ’cause that’s how you are.  I’m living in Fresno in an area you probably wouldn’t like, and I’m not so sure you would like my job either (mom sure doesn’t).

I wonder if you’d like my friends, and if you’re proud of us at all.  Well, I wonder if you’re proud of me, really, but sometimes I wonder about all of us.

The fair is coming up, and I’m going to have a corndog in your honor.  I’m going to slather it in mustard and spread it out with my finger just like you would do.  Hope you don’t mind me copying you.  You know the best tricks.

None of us ride the rides anymore, I think we mostly go because of you…well, you and the food. Let’s not downplay the food.

I guess  that’s all I’m going to say for the moment.  We’re always wondering what you’re up to, though.  We wonder what it’s like over there and if you’re too busy to catch all that’s happening over here. Of course, lot’s of other things have happened, but there’s way too much to write.  I just thought I would write this so you know that January 13th isn’t the only day we think about you.  We miss you all the time.

Love you.  Wish you were here.

Irma Jr.

P.S. If you see a guy named Joseph Cardoza, keep an eye out for him.  He’s good people.  He’s Kelly’s brother.  (Remember Kelly?  Ran face first into the bell at the grammar school and had to have stitches?).  We would all really appreciate that.  Thanks, dad.