Zibby's essay: "This Father's Day, My Dad Actually Gave Me The Gift"
[0:13]Hi, I'm Zibi Owens.
[0:14]Thanks for listening to moms.
[0:15]Don't have time to read books.
[0:17]Today is Father's Day.
[0:18]So happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.
[0:20]I hope everybody had a great day.
[0:22]I have a quick essay to read probably three minutes
[0:26]about Father's Day, and I figured
[0:27]better late than never to record it.
[0:29]So I'll share with you.
[0:31]I'm always open to comments.
[0:33]You can email me at zibiatzibiowans.com.
[0:35]And also follow me, please on Instagram at zibiowans.
[0:39]And at moms don't have time to read books.
[0:41]Also, for my new podcast, at kids do have time to read.
[0:45]So I hope you'll follow me.
[0:46]And I hope you enjoyed this short article
[0:47]and that it makes you think of your dad
[0:49]or the memory of your dad and just
[0:50]feel a little bit better today.
[0:53]It's called, This Father's Day.
[0:54]My dad actually gave me the gift.
[0:56]And I published it on the today parenting team site
[1:00]from the Today Show.
[1:02]I'm wandering through an upper east side bathing store
[1:04]to pick out the perfect swimsuit
[1:06]to give to my dad for Father's Day.
[1:08]My younger daughter has wrapped herself around my leg
[1:10]as I haltingly inch forward.
[1:12]Does my dad even want another bathing suit?
[1:13]I wonder, I don't have time to find him,
[1:15]the perfect gift with four kids of my own
[1:17]to manage in my podcast to produce.
[1:19]It'll have to be good enough.
[1:20]As I shop, I realize that my dad might not realize
[1:23]that many small yet important things he has done
[1:25]over the years that have really stuck with me.
[1:27]The things I mentioned in passing to my own children,
[1:29]little moments from when I was his little girl.
[1:31]I decide to make a list.
[1:33]One, milkshakes.
[1:35]When my dad touched me in at night,
[1:36]he'd wrapped the blanket tightly around my shoulders,
[1:39]which flavor monk, he caused me monkey
[1:41]because when I was born, that's what I looked like.
[1:44]I'd giggle and call out chocolate.
[1:46]He'd look right, look left,
[1:47]then look down and start shaking me,
[1:48]saying chocolate milkshake!
[1:51]I'd squeal with laughter.
[1:53]Two, Myrtle the Turtle.
[1:55]After bedtime books,
[1:56]my dad would make up magical stories
[1:57]about the adventures of Myrtle the Turtle.
[1:59]One day Myrtle would be a spy, another day of ballerina.
[2:02]Every night, something new.
[2:03]I hung on every word every time.
[2:05]At some point, my dad decided to buy us
[2:07]an actual turtle named Myrtle.
[2:09]Myrtle sat in her glass tank on my dresser for years,
[2:11]watching me grow, reminding me of the power of a great story.
[2:15]Three, the Morris.
[2:17]Whenever my dad and I went anywhere together,
[2:19]a dinner out at the high holiday services
[2:20]that our temple, a play, he would casually stealthily extend
[2:24]his clothes hand to me, curved like the shape of the letter C.
[2:27]He wouldn't look at me or look down.
[2:29]He'd focused straight ahead,
[2:30]perhaps a small smile on his lips.
[2:32]I'd immediately engage hiding our secret game
[2:34]from everyone around us.
[2:35]It was just for us.
[2:36]Our world, one, two, three, four.
[2:39]I declare a thumb war.
[2:42]I braced for sneak attacks.
[2:43]I never wanted thumb peace.
[2:45]Four, our adventures.
[2:47]Once we went to Colonial Williamsburg, just us.
[2:49]He remembers driving rainstorms.
[2:51]I remember sitting in an old country and together
[2:53]and insanely happy.
[2:54]Another time we went to Washington, D.C.,
[2:56]he remembers carrying me on his back.
[2:58]I remember learning about the FBI, the Capitol, the Treasury.
[3:01]There may have been three or four nights total
[3:03]that we traveled together, but they were my happiest,
[3:05]my special memories with him, just the two of us.
[3:08]Five, glaciers.
[3:10]When I was in high school,
[3:11]my dad tried to help me understand what a glacier was.
[3:13]A concept I was inexplicably having trouble grasping.
[3:16]He extended his arms out like an airplane,
[3:18]bent down at the waist and slowly started moving
[3:19]across my bedroom over my bed, making wooching sounds.
[3:23]Six, his advice.
[3:25]Friend or relationship issues were his domain.
[3:27]I'd perked on the edge of my bed
[3:29]while he listened thoughtfully to my problems.
[3:31]He always looked me in the eye
[3:32]and acted like my tiny grievances
[3:33]for the most important global issues.
[3:35]He gave me advice for you, any judgment,
[3:37]always full of love and insight.
[3:39]Seven, closing my eyes.
[3:41]On nights when I couldn't sleep,
[3:42]my dad would sit next to me and whisper,
[3:43]shh, and with the middle of his index finger,
[3:46]stroke my eyelids closed, one eye and the other,
[3:49]one eye, then the other, until the fluttering ceased
[3:52]and I doze dreamily.
[3:54]Eight, funny animal noises.
[3:57]My dad made the most ridiculous sounds.
[3:58]If I was going to the movies with friends,
[4:00]he would say, ah, you're going to the movies
[4:03]with a long, deep, sonorous moo,
[4:05]and then laugh out loud to himself.
[4:07]I would shake my head smiling.
[4:09]Even a standard event became something looked at
[4:11]in a new moo way.
[4:13]He still does this.
[4:15]Nine, rescuing me.
[4:17]During a summer trip when I was 14,
[4:19]a summer in which I was having a tough emotional time
[4:21]that could barely speak,
[4:22]my dad came over to France and whisked me away
[4:24]from the language immersion group I was with.
[4:26]We spent the night in a quaint hotel in the south of France
[4:28]on such a hot day that the butter melted in its dish
[4:31]at dinner.
[4:31]I didn't care.
[4:32]He had saved me.
[4:33]He had come.
[4:35]10, always taking my calls.
[4:37]No matter what he's doing at work,
[4:38]he always stopped to take my calls.
[4:40]The other day I called and he said,
[4:41]I'm at the White House month, is it urgent?
[4:43]Nope, I was fine.
[4:45]11, our flight.
[4:46]Last month, we had the unexpected joy
[4:48]flying home together from Los Angeles.
[4:50]He was there for a conference
[4:51]and I was there with my husband.
[4:52]The two of us had to come home earlier than our spouses.
[4:55]So we took the overnight cross country trip together.
[4:58]After sitting side by side, reading and working,
[5:00]he looked over at me, his reading glass
[5:01]is perched on his nose and said,
[5:03]OK, monk, time for bed.
[5:05]And just like those decades ago, those quiet nights
[5:07]in the 1970s and 1980s, my dad put me to sleep
[5:10]and kissed me good night, just the two of us.
[5:14]Back at the store, my daughter pulls out a bathing suit
[5:16]and snaps me out of my reverie.
[5:18]I think her like this lunch, she says,
[5:19]holding up navy print trunks.
[5:21]I think so too, I say, bending down
[5:23]to look her in the eye and hug her,
[5:24]giving her my full attention.
[5:26]After all, it was just the two of us in the store,
[5:28]my daughter and me.
[5:29]And Erin did my head, but perhaps a lifetime memory
[5:32]for her, just the two of us.
[5:34]Time together, the gift my dad gave me
[5:36]that I'll be sure to pass on to my own kids.
[5:39]Happy Father's Day, Dad.
[5:40]And happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.
[5:43]And thank you all for listening.
[5:44]And I hope everybody had a great day.
[5:46]Again, feel free to email me.
[5:48]I always love hearing your comments.
[5:49]Zibi at Zibiowans.com.
[5:51]Thanks so much.
[5:52]And it's gonna be a big week on the podcast.
[5:55]I have five episodes airing this week.
[5:57]So be sure to tune in.
[5:58]Thanks so much, bye.