My father was the fastest man in the world.
We lived in a small house, next to a field. One day, we raced home. As we ran I thought, “Holy shit. My father is the fastest man in the world.”
Even though I didn’t know what “holy shit” meant.
My Father was the smartest man in the world.
For April Fool’s day, we put a whoopee cushion on his car seat. Then, somehow, some way, as if by magic, my brother farted at the kitchen table over dinner.
My Father was the coolest man in the world.
He collected pocket knives. One of them was a switch blade–no, two; two of them were switchblades!
My Father was the funniest man in the world.
Once, he told a joke. I don’t remember the joke. I remember laughing. I remember the whole family laughing. It had something to do with curtains. I remember I laughed so much, it hurt.
My Father was the strongest man in the world.
Until I watched Uncle Jimmy lift him up to the ceiling.
My father was the best Gin-Rummy player in the world.
Wait–no he wasn’t, check the scorecard.
**Happy Father’s Day