fondest of memories

Tonight started out like most of the nights I've had over the last few weeks; work ends, I run to the car and dash to some theater thing, then home to help Mikal with his knee, then watch a little tele, then do some numbers for the theater, and finally off to bed.  So, I had gotten to the "then watch a little tele", when some weird magic happened and my night changed for the better.

Magic you ask - well, it's that really random but wonderful magic of memories.  They hit you when you least expect it.  I'm not sure if it is the holidays, my time of the month, or just a serendipitous coincidence.  A memory that makes you smile or chuckle - but in my case, I felt like a child can feel; happy and like there isn't anyone cooler than . . . your dad.  I'm not sure what I was doing or what made me remember, but I decided, after sharing it with Mikal, that I needed to share with all of you.  And really hope he reads it.  Then he'll know how much I love him (even if these words are inadequate, they are the closest way for me to say it) and how much I love my mom for marrying him (I love her for other reasons, but this is near the top of the list).

You're screaming at me - DUDE! what is the memory already - ok - I'm there.

Every year for Halloween, my dad, Gary, would dress up with this mask and cape.  The mask was of this old man, but his ears were really pointy and his teeth were sharp and scary (now, the sad thing is that I have no pictures to actually show you what it DID look like - remember, this is my childhood memory; it could be completely made up - you'll have to wait for my dad to tell you it's real).  I remember the cape being black with a brilliant lining of red satiny material.  So dramatic.  While children were trick or treating, every time the doorbell rang, my dad would jump out from the door and say, in his best deep voice, "wah haa haa haa haa" - it was pretty scary - pretty cool scary!

Next door lived a small boy about 5 or more years younger than we, named Jeremy.  I remember this particular year as being about 5 or 7.  Jeremy was knocked off his rocker when dad first answered the door; scared silly - silly scared, then laughing hysterically.  It became a tradition.

And once Jeremy knew that a scary man would answer our door every once in a while, he'd try it out regularly.  Yes, we would randomly answer our door to a Jeremy asking for "Scary Gary".  At first we didn't understand, because upon Jeremy wait for us to open the door and in his fit of excitement waiting to be scared and when he WASN'T laughing so hard his words were unitelligble, "issthh sctharty garee here"?

And he did it three or four times before we understood "issth sctharty garee here" to be "is scary gary here"?  So, what did dad do?  March over to our neighbors and tell them their son was doorbell ditching?  OF COURSE NOT.  My dad did the best thing possible: he went and got the mask and when the doorbell rang again, he jumped out and SCARED Jeremy silly!  It to fits of laughing. 

How cool is that?  It's even cooler when you find out that my dad is my step-dad.  He met my sister and me when we were 3 and 5.  In fact, my mom wasn't sure he'd be ok with two kids, but his response was close to, "well, we'll bring 'em along" - to the drop zone - where you jump out of planes.  He loved us.  That's the coolest part.  And he loved the neighbor kids.  And now - he loves his grandkids - he's so cool, what does one of my nephews want to be when he grows up?  A pilot - like his Gary (Gary is the noun for grandpa - the kind of grand parent who prefers to be called Gary - but grandma is Colleen  - so what's a 5 year to think?)

Anyway, I hope he reads this.  I love him and tonight, my whole night was full of sweet memory because of Jeremy and Gary's Scary Gary.  Thanks dad.

Love you,
love me.