Back when I had free time, I used to amuse myself for hours playing with Photoshop. That’s how I ended up with irrefutable proof that Elvis lives …
… and that’s also how my dad became a pirate.
Only today, while I was looking through my old family photos, did I realize the extent to which I subjected my dear dad to the ravages of Photoshop.
I cast him (rather sloppily, in hindsight) as a Navy captain:
A Green Bay Packer:
And even as the president of the United States:
What strikes me about these images — also in hindsight — is that there’s a heroic element to them all.
Maybe that’s because my father truly has always seemed larger-than-life to me: Like a real-life Indiana Jones, he’s battled hordes of tree frogs, driven through a sandstorm, and escaped from a destabilized third-world country.
But perhaps his most heroic role has been that of being a father: When I think of all the dreams my dad gave up, and all the sacrifices he made to raise me, the words “thank you” seem comically inadequate.
Happy Father’s Day, to my dad and my hero, from the bottom of my grateful little heart.