List Dad

My dad is a big fan of lists. He’s the kind of guy who researches the best method, weighs the pros and cons, and sticks to the recipe. He is not one to go about a task willy-nilly.

As someone who often likes to “wing it,” I wonder if following directions so closely doesn’t take the fun and spontaneity out of activities. Not necessarily! I’m sure he wonders how flying by the seat of one’s pants doesn’t always end in disaster! Sometimes it does!

Having a dad who makes lists and shows up early to things is comforting. We can relax, Dad has probably thought of everything. He’s the man with the plan.

Stylistically, Dad’s lists are something to behold. Most of his lists are handwritten and in ALL CAPS! When he types them he pulls out all the stops, taking full advantage of underline, highlight, parentheses. He loves using parentheses to make a funny aside.

When it comes to computers, Dad is pretty savvy. You might say he was there when it all started, with the invention of the first personal computer, then learning each new technology as it came into being. I don’t really understand what his job has been for the last 40 years, but it involves software testing, charts, graphs, and other goodies. In spite of his affinity for computers, he still has a soft spot for office supplies. He loves three ring binders, yellow highlighters, and felt tip pens of every color and thickness.

Dad also had one of those old fashioned label makers that spits out embossed plastic labels. It was mustard yellow, required about 100 lbs. of grip strength, and made a satisfying cracking sound with every letter. He loved that thing and the evidence was literally everywhere!

I inherited my dad’s love of cooking, and his anxiety about getting it right. No matter how delicious the result, we are both wondering if it couldn’t have used another minute under the broiler or a bit more salt. Dad has given me binders full of recipes, color printed and tucked into plastic page protectors. He once bought me a cast iron skillet. It came with very detailed printed directions for how to clean and care for the thing. I was so intimidated, I was scared to wash it at all. I am ashamed to say it rusted horribly and I disposed of the evidence.

When I went off to college, my dad created a binder with a list of things to remember, helpful hints and such. And for the purpose of this essay, eighteen year old me followed his advice down to the letter. Actually, I think he knew that I would end up doing my own thing, but his message of care and encouragement was greatly appreciated.

When I introduced myself to the dean of my college, he perked up upon hearing my last name. “Your reputation precedes you,” he said. “I received a lengthy email from your father about you.” I was embarrassed in front of the other students, and I could tell by the dean’s tone that this was something unusual. I walked away feeling proud and hoping I could live up to whatever was in that email.

When I lost my job last year, my dad was the first person I talked to who actually made me feel better. I called him and spoke to him at length about my job hunting strategy. He listened. He empathized, because he had been laid off too. He was about to suggest I make an Excel spreadsheet of all the places I had applied to keep track of the dates and contacts. “I am way ahead of you, Dad,” I said. He just laughed. He’s got a great laugh.

My dad is now retired. He and my mom moved to a condo. They spend their days relaxing and making friends with their new neighbors. Dad is at this moment constructing his “man cave,” no doubt full of Beatles records, Taoist literature, drawing supplies, ukulele, and electric piano.

I have come to recognize that a list from my dad is one of his ways of saying “I love you.” I appreciate how methodical he is. It helps keep anxious thoughts of failure at bay. It’s simple, just follow the steps. Sometimes you have to improvise. Sometimes things don’t work out, but it always helps to be prepared.

I love you, Dad.