Hey Pops
So I was sitting around in class one day a while back thinking about things like my childhood and all the favorite toys of mine and I realized something. Remember how you and Mom used to always buy me GI Joe's and how my favorite of the soldiers was this middle-aged black guy? I think I finally understand why- because he looked a lot like you. Or in many ways, was you. He was athletic and built, had the same beard, the typical worn baseball cap, the random blank tank tops, everything... I mean subconsciously, he really was you. I remember how given any match-up against other peoples action figures or the endless hordes that I set up myself to battle, this specific GI Joe was always the obvious choice every single time. Never, and I mean never, no more how lengthy the battle, how beat-down he was, how tired he was, or how bleak things seemed to look, did he ever fail or fall short of his goals. And I think it all in various applications, in comparing him to you, is very fitting. And you see it's funny because coincidentally, I never seemed to forge a past for this lone soldier or give him a context, he just sort of was who he was and did what he had to do. Which goes without saying that in some ways even that is relate-able to you because even now I still feel like I don't quite know you, forming my ideas of your past through my imagination and various vague descriptions of your former self... Or maybe I just don't know you or understand you as much as a son would like to. But I'm glad that that's changing.
Thank you for everything that you do that nobody sees. For fighting uphill battles. For taking the shot sometimes. And for being a borderline superhero of mine when I didn't even quite realize it. But also know that you don't always have to do it all on your own.
Happy Birthday Pops,
Jonathan
So I was sitting around in class one day a while back thinking about things like my childhood and all the favorite toys of mine and I realized something. Remember how you and Mom used to always buy me GI Joe's and how my favorite of the soldiers was this middle-aged black guy? I think I finally understand why- because he looked a lot like you. Or in many ways, was you. He was athletic and built, had the same beard, the typical worn baseball cap, the random blank tank tops, everything... I mean subconsciously, he really was you. I remember how given any match-up against other peoples action figures or the endless hordes that I set up myself to battle, this specific GI Joe was always the obvious choice every single time. Never, and I mean never, no more how lengthy the battle, how beat-down he was, how tired he was, or how bleak things seemed to look, did he ever fail or fall short of his goals. And I think it all in various applications, in comparing him to you, is very fitting. And you see it's funny because coincidentally, I never seemed to forge a past for this lone soldier or give him a context, he just sort of was who he was and did what he had to do. Which goes without saying that in some ways even that is relate-able to you because even now I still feel like I don't quite know you, forming my ideas of your past through my imagination and various vague descriptions of your former self... Or maybe I just don't know you or understand you as much as a son would like to. But I'm glad that that's changing.
Thank you for everything that you do that nobody sees. For fighting uphill battles. For taking the shot sometimes. And for being a borderline superhero of mine when I didn't even quite realize it. But also know that you don't always have to do it all on your own.
Happy Birthday Pops,
Jonathan
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