Fadder's day...ha-toy-a-toy-tee-toy!

(Photo removed, sorry)
Um, the title was supposed to be me doing an Irish accent. This is my family, sans the three girls, or as we refer to them: The family pride (as apposed to the "family shame"). So, you have my big bother (not a typo) Mickey the Mexican, moms, pops, and me, the li'l sh*t. This was taken back in the late '90s. My dad still looks older than Yoda, but now sports an awesome 'stache. My mom still looks way too young for her age and my brother (Los Zapato) is getting closer to his life-long dream of becoming a sumo star in Japan. I haven't wore my hair in drapes in a long time and I believe I just shaved off my soul patch in order to look halfway decent for this picture.

See, here's the deal: my family is close, but, then again, not. I don't have many pictures of me and my pops. We all depend on each other for various reasons and the struggles over the years of dealing with each other have put both of us in a relationship of "Are you alright? Ok, then, quit yer bitching!" We aren't clamoring to be side by side so we can get documented proof of our closeness, but don't ever doubt the love. See, you just have to substitute "I'm not yelling" and "I'm not angry" with " I love you daddy" and you get "us".

The honest truth is that my dad has been the best dad he could be given all of the health and psychological challenges he's faced for about thirty years. I am amazed at how he stuck with it through all of the crap. A lot of people doubted the trials he went through. I remember the last time he worked, around '85, that was a real blow to me. I used to think that he didn't want to work. I used to believe the other grown ups who used to talk to me about him, when they'd suggest that he was just being lazy. They thought that severe depression, panic attacks, and anxiety were either the cause of sin or just fabricated maladies--like he could just repent or snap out of it. I remember a respected man in our community coming into our home and tearing my father to pieces in front of the whole family, humiliating him, basically telling him that "Everybody gets depressed, Milt. Snap out of it!" My dad refused to let all of this do him in.

Today, dad's body may not be getting better, but over the years of adjusting certain medications, he has been able to live a more normal life. I don't know what life would have been like if he were able to have been healthy and working, but that is not the life I got to have. What I do have is my father, of whom I've learned to be proud of. It is too early to tell how all of these experiences and my relationship with my dad will benefit me in my life, but I know for a fact that my humor and sensibilities were forged from them. I love you pops!