Like father, like daughter
A feeble attempt at showing appreciation to my dad
Story by HAILEY PALMER
I got my first iPod Touch when I was 13 years old. My dad handed it to me on my birthday and told me to put the song “Daughters” by John Mayer in it. I didn’t really understand why because at the time I was busy putting in “Love Story” by Taylor Swift, if I’m being honest.
There have been plenty of instances in my life where I haven’t understood something about my dad. He’s also one of the few people in my life I think I understand the most. That’s because my personality is an exact copy of his. I know genetically that’s not how it works, but for the sake of this essay, that’s how it’s going to work.
My sarcasm, wit, tendency to downplay important things and general inability to properly express emotions comes from Ed Palmer. So, to my friends reading this, next time one of those traits annoys you, direct your feelings his way because it’s not my fault.
It wasn’t until October, when my dad was hospitalized, that I came to realize just how similar he and I were. He was originally admitted for chest pains, but while he was there, the doctors found a lot of blockage in his heart. They scheduled a triple bypass surgery.
“It’s no big deal,” he said.
How nonchalant he was when he said that drove me crazy because, obviously, that kind of thing is a big deal. It was also in that moment I realized I would have said the same thing to my friends and family in a similar situation. Downplaying most things and the general inability to express emotions, remember?
For all the things I’ve picked up from my dad that I can’t stand, including the laid back approach I take to most situations, there’s plenty of things I’m thankful for. His love and passion for sports is one of them.
Growing up, my two brothers played sports and my dad coached. I had to either learn the games they played or get left behind. I chose to learn.
I went to every practice and game whether it was football, baseball or wrestling. The smell of sweaty prepubescent boy was one I became all too familiar with.
Throughout my childhood, I spent weeknights at some type of practice and weekends at games or tournaments. Constantly being surrounded and immersed in that world became my norm.
It wasn’t until high school I really decided I wanted sports to be a part of my career. Seeing as I’m 5 feet 5 inches tall, being a professional athlete wasn’t really an option.
My dad and I were watching football one night and one of the sideline reporters came on the screen.
“You could do something like that when you grow up,” he said.
Realistically, that’s not the exact moment I decided I wanted to pursue journalism as a career, but it is the moment the idea was planted into my head.
I was constantly surrounded by male-dominated sports growing up, but never once did I think I didn’t belong in that world. I owe that to my dad. If we hadn’t watched ESPN constantly, I really don’t know what I’d be doing today in college. Probably something that makes more money.
Since my dad was discharged from the hospital in late October, I’ve noticed some changes. He calls me almost every day now instead of once or twice a week like he used to. He ends every call with an “I love you” or an “I’ll call you again later.” I think he’s working on the “inability to express emotions” thing. Probably because open heart surgery will make a man come to some realizations.
It’s definitely made me realize some things. My dad’s health has always been something I try not to think of.
He began having heart problems two years ago and since then, I’ve known his health isn’t the best. I pushed it to the back of my mind because I didn’t want to deal with it. The whole triple bypass thing forced me to deal with it.
I’m scared of my parents not being around to see me do something significant with my life. This was one of my first thoughts the day of my dad’s surgery. I’m not ready to think about the days where I won’t have my dad around anymore. It’s hard to grasp that one of the main people responsible for my personality and love for sports won’t be around forever.
At 22 years old, I unashamedly still listen to some of the same music I listened to when I was 13, “Love Story” included. I didn’t understand why my dad wanted me to put that John Mayer song in my iPod at the time, but I do now. It was his subtle way of saying he loves and cares about me.
