My Dad is the Coolest

I'm in the process of applying for a job right now.  It's a big job.  You could even call it the start of my career.  Anyways, I have a mentor and friend who has been giving the details and inside scoop of what to expect in regards to applying and interviewing for this job.  On Friday he told me to expect a question in my interview that will go something like this:

"Who is your hero and why?"

Obviously they're looking for me to give a stellar example of some kind of leader I admire and how I try to apply their traits to myself.  As I pondered who would be my answer, it became obvious to me that the answer is my Dad.  And the hardest part is that I don't know if I have the ability to eloquently explain how amazing this man is.  But I guess practicing here on my blog is the best place to start.

I have the coolest Dad in the world.  He grew up on a farm that backed on to a beautiful river bottom.  When he wasn't at school or doing chores, he could be found down at the river bottom catching new pets and critters.  Throughout his growing up years, my Dad had a pet raccoon, owl, hawk, fox, and several others that I'm sure I'm forgetting.  Although I'm sure I hated having to go to bed as a kid, nowadays I can't think of a more fond memory than the stories my Dad would share with us as he tucked us in.  He told us how his pet raccoon, named Rocky, stole the pies his mom had placed on the window sill to cool after being taken out of the oven.  He told us the tale of when his pet owl, named Oscar, got in a fight with the farm cat over the dinner scraps and Oscar lost his eye.

Another reason why my Dad is the coolest is because he used to be a hunting guide up in the Northwest Territories during his young adult years.  He would lead hunters to anything from bears to big sheep.  His passion for nature and wildlife even lead him to do some schooling in fish and wildlife.  Not to mention he also grew a mean beard back in those days.  He must have been pretty darn charming because he convinced my mom to be a camp cook for his hunting trips when they were first married too.

Now this is where things start to get sappy.  I don't know why, but for the first time in my life this next part of my Dad's story has left me with tears streaming down my face while I try my best to type.  My Dad is the coolest.  For close to 25 years now he has humbly and quietly dealt with an unfair trial.  You see, my Dad belongs in the great outdoors; he should be out climbing mountains, hiking, and exploring.  Instead, shortly after I was born, he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, a disease with no cure that has prematurely stolen the endurance and strength his limbs once had.  In all of my years, I have never once heard him whine or complain about the inconveniences MS has brought to him.  In fact, he'd probably be the last person to tell you that he had such a trial, let alone murmur or make a big deal out of it.  Don't get me wrong, he's been incredibly blessed with a very mild case and has enjoyed a life of movement and health.  I guess there's just something about being closer to the age and place in life that my Mom and Dad were when this detour occurred.

Hopefully this picture lightens the mood.  Moving on.

My Dad is the coolest.  It wasn't until I was actually married that I realized one of the key traits I had been looking for in a young man.  It was something I had seen in my father, yet couldn't quite put in to words.  Is it loyalty?  Dedication?  Or simply a hopelessly devoted sort of love?  Whatever it is, it's what I witnessed my Dad do for my mother when she struggled with her health.  I couldn't have been more than 10, yet I vividly recall my dad being gone just as much as my mom was when she got sick.  I later understood this was because he was constantly visiting her in the hospital.  Whatever this trait was, I found it in Jon, because he has stood by my side just as loyally when I went through the darkest parts of my depression.

My Dad is the coolest.  He's so cool he makes a Chuck Norris joke look like a nursery rhyme.  Almost five years ago he stared death right in the face and laughed at it.  While trying to break a very green horse, he was bucked off.  The horse then proceeded to use his abdomen as a trampoline.  When all was said and done, my Dad's renal artery had been sheared off of his aorta and he was essentially bleeding to death.  I have literally had to look at my Dad, hold his hand, and say goodbye; the kind of goodbye you say when you don't know if you'll see him again after the airplane ride to a bigger hospital or after yet another surgery.  Fortunately, my Dad kick punched death in the face and we had the wonderful opportunity of welcoming him back as he woke up from the coma.  I'll always remember him humming my Mom and his wedding song as he broke through the anesthesia or how some of his first coherent sentences were in regards to church matters that he needed to get done right then.

My Dad is the coolest.  Each morning before he would leave for work, without fail he would say:

"Love ya, appreciate ya, see ya later."

You could even say that this quote has become doctrine or canonized in the Gibb home.  It isn't so much a cheesy good bye anymore, it has become a testament of my Dad's love for all of us and how we're all important to him.

My Dad is the coolest.  I've never met a person more quick and witty with poetry.  Whether it's Little Willie poems or his own custom assortment of Old Testament limericks, my Dad is the best and most funny poet I know.  He's also got a secret love for The Simpsons.  Although that "awful" show was banned from the Gibb house by my mother, my Dad could often be found watching it and would let us join him as long as Mom wasn't around.  A sure fire way to have my Dad buckled over in laughter is to quote The Simpsons.

My Dad is the coolest.  As a kid nothing was more intimidating than having someone ask me what my Dad did for work, simply because I didn't really know what he did.  Nowadays I take pride in giving the long answer in regards to my Dad's occupation.  After years and years of schooling my Dad earned his PhD.  In Animal Science.  Unlike most of my professors at university, my Dad refuses to be called "Dr. Gibb," and instead spends his days frolicking in feedlots.  In layman's terms, my Dad is a cow dietician; he does consulting work for a handful of feedlots in southern Alberta giving nutrition advice and selling feed.  He is also a budding entrepreneur with a keen interest in selling computer programs to feedlots in order to better track and measure what is being fed to the cattle and so on.  Call me crazy, but I love the smell of cows and feedlots.  It's probably because that's how my Dad smelt when he came home from work each day.

My Dad is the coolest.  I think my most favourite thing he has ever said to me was said in his speech at my wedding.  Before getting down to the nitty gritty of his speech, he said something along the lines:

"It's hard to give away your first daughter when she's the only son you ever had."

In a family of only three girls, I always liked to think that I was the pseudo-son.  I will forever cherish the time I spent with my Dad doing "son-like" things, such as having him come to my pee-wee football games, helping out with my 4H calf, riding horses out on the Ridge, or all of the hours spent setting up and taking down the confounded irrigation pipes in our pastures.

Dad, you're the coolest.  Forgive me for not making it down to see you this Father's Day.  Thank you for being a real life hero.  I love you, I appreciate you, and I'll see you next weekend.