The most "Dad" things
Inspired by this.
First, one of the "Dad" things he did in the sense Mallory Ortberg meant it:
My dad used to claim to be Superman (and that mom was Wonder Woman. So that old joke about use of the Oxford comma is hilarious to me). He looked the part: tall and handsome, athletic when he was younger, with blue eyes and dark hair styled side-parted with a curl in front. He wore suits to work and a nice felt fedora and dark-rimmed eyeglasses, just like Clark Kent. This is relevant, I promise.
So one day around 1980ish we're out at dinner, and somewhere in conversation with the waitress, he says, "That would be swell."
My sister and I fell over each other making fun of him. "Swell? Did you just say swell? God, Dad, what decade is it?"
We go home after dinner and what is on TV but the NETWORK BROADCAST PREMIERE of the original Christopher Reeve Superman. I realize anyone under 35 won't understand why "network broadcast premiere" is a big deal, but back before cable, DVDs/Blu-ray, and the internet, there were only two ways you got to see a movie: in the theater, or when it aired on broadcast TV. You needed an antenna to watch it.
So the whole family sits down in the livingroom to watch this movie, which yes we had seen a couple of years earlier in the theater, but this is good family entertainment and besides, see above about Dad always claiming to be Superman.
And then comes...the moment. Clark Kent has his first introduction to Perry White and Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane. He walks out of the Daily Planet building with Lois, and she says something I forget what as they're going through the revolving door onto the sidewalk.
Clark replies, "Well gee, that'd be swell, Lois."
Dad bursts out laughing. "See? I AM Superman!"
Lois looks at Clark scornfully. "Swell??
My sis and I burst out laughing. "Lois thinks he sounds stupid when he says that!"
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"Dad" things he did in the sense PZM means the term:
• Taught me to throw and catch before I could walk. Later, taught me to use two hands when fielding a ball, and to come up from beneath a grounder rather than reach down to get it.
• Taught me to write, in the "how to put words together" sense (Mom was on handwriting detail). Actively worked to expand my vocabulary and to teach me grammar (which the schools didn't teach anymore by that time).
• Taught me to play chess.
• Could tell you off the top of his head who played what position for any Major League baseball team between 1930 and 1955. (And was pretty good with years after that, but not quite as perfect.)
• Spent endless hours playing catch with us, or throwing a tennis ball for us to hit back to him. Taking us for bike rides in the park. Playing board games.
• Took us to museums and made them fun by letting us decide what part of the museum we wanted to see. Always the big whale on the ceiling at the museum of Natural History. Always the Egyptian wing of the MMA. When we ventured into other parts of either museum, he would talk with us about what we were looking at and ask for (and respect) our opinions.
• Brought us (me and sis) into his office on most days when our school was closed but his office was open and Mom was busy.
• Read to us and tucked us into bed almost every day (when we were young enough to need tucking).
• Did all the grocery shopping.
• Wandered around the house singing, sometimes making up the tune and words. Both my sis and I do this now.
• Was always calm in a crisis.
• Always had my back when I was in trouble. Sometimes more obviously, sometimes more subtly, but I always knew he was there.
Dad wasn't perfect, obviously. I could give you a rundown of stupid things he did, parenting mistakes he made. But every parent makes mistakes, and his weren't severe or life-changing. And really, that last bullet point was the most important one.