When I think back to my earliest memories with my dad, the images that pop up for me are flashes of running outside during a thunderstorm to watch the lightning together, riding on the back of a dirt bike with him through the forrest, dancing to John Denver and Neil Sedaka, my dad twirling me as I giggled with joy.  Then, later on it was memories of riding bikes together in the mornings training for "El Tigre" in Mexico, him teaching me how to drive in the parking lot of the Rose Bowl, bringing out his Pentax for me to explore, and encouraging my love for travel.  

As I sit here this morning on Father's Day, I know I have one very special thing to give back to him:  The dance of a father and his daughter at her wedding.  This has been on my mind strongly, as I eloped three days ago in Africa.  Yet I know that my marriage will not be complete until I have that dance with my dad.  It will come soon, we'll have a party and I'll wear my dress, and I'll see him across the dance floor looking at me with a smirk, curling his finger in a hithering motion for me to join him, beginning to boogie as he and I mozie towards each other.  It's something I truly cannot wait for, and when the day comes, my smile will overcome me.  I love my dad to the moon and back.  He's my rock, my goofy inspiration, and he's my biggest fan.  Thanks, dad, for loving me so much.  You mean the world to me, and I can't wait to create many more memories with you!


Your Pook.