So I've grown a beard, and that's occasion to write about my dad. For the past few years I've written things on his memorial day, but this year I wasn't as inspired, at least until now.
My dad is still my default model of what it means to be a man, in the grown-up sense of the word. I trimmed my beard last weekend, and now it really does look
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Thank you.
I have the opposite impression of my dad--I see him as a guy who wanted to be a great dad, who went to incredible lengths to make himself a warm, loving, protective figure for me, but he was so awkward and made so many bad decisions that I never saw him that way for long, and that makes him even more endearing to me than if he had succeeded. Ironically, he's no less a role model to me than he would have been if he was perfect. If I fail at anything, I want to fail at least as endearingly as my dad does.
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