To The Girls...

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My buddy Brad and his wife Nicole are new parents to twin girls today.

I decided to write this for the twins, so that in about 21 years from now, when their father decides to let them use the internet for the first time, they can really find out what kind of dad he really is. Sure, they can read How Star Wars Created a Friendship for the early stuff. But this will be me talking to them.


Ok girls, I know you two have been growing up over the years, and are now turning 21. I'm sure there were the various times where you got to see Uncle Furey doing his knucklehead moves at your parents house, like the time I thought I was the Dog Whisperer and tried to "train" Nelly. I'm still very sorry for bringing those pit bulls to the house to retrain Nelly to be in "the pack". I didn't know your parents didn't have her spayed. I can only hope that you learned a valuable lesson in the birds and the bees when you two were 6.


Your Dad is a cool guy. I'm sure you know that since you are 21 by now, but its true. There isn't a nicer guy I know to be a father, and I mean that. Brad learned at an early age to be nice to girls, thanks to his mother. Brad growing up was a bit weaker than the rest of us, and since his brain is the size of Jupiter, that didn't help his social standing amongst the stronger kids. I'm sure if you go outside and wave to the lawnmower guys you can see some of those old bullies now. You can thank them for beating Brad up because it only made him cry and his mom was always there to protect him. So Brad learned that good women = a good thing. That's why he married your Mom.

In his later years your dad had his formative years, but was always the same guy. Sure, when he started working in New York City on Wall Street, he could have been like the rest of the people who work there and started to think he was better than others because of the money he was making. But he didn't. He was the same guy who used to play Magic: The Gathering with me on Friday nights, rather than spending his money on women and cocaine like every other financial bigwig does.

I'm sure you learned over the years that Brad is a pushover, but it wasn't always this way. Brad used to be a tough negotiator, from his days of collecting comics and collectable card games up to the days of him working with a financial bank with credit derivatives. I tried to tell Brad before you both were born that if his first kid was a girl he would turn to mush. He didn't believe me. Then you two were born and, predictably, he turned into Super Brad Dad. He took about 1,928,372 pictures of you two - in the first year!

Every time I would come and visit he would have something new that you two were doing, like burping or sneezing - yes, you both inherited that way he sneezes with the loud "AHHHHH-CHOOO" and arms flailing technique. Then there was your baptism, where I won out to one of Nicole's 5,000 cousins and brothers to be your Godparent. I have evoked his name enough times in my life to be on a first-name basis with Yahweh. But I digress.

Yes, you two are the apple of your parents eye. I know you both graduated as co-Valedictorian from Lawrenceville, but try to not rub it in your father's face too often. Yes, he is a good sport, but he does get cranky when he loses, like everytime I schooled him on the basketball court (hey, its not my fault i'm 6'3 and he is 5'10 - thanks Yahweh!) or when we used to laugh at him trying to snowboard. I do wish digital cameras were invented to get the shot of Brad exiting the half pipe at Blue Mountain backwards, with his feet pointing towards the sky and his arms outstretched. It could have been the funniest thing I witnessed in my entire life. I briefly stopped laughing only when I heard the rest of the mountain collectively say, "Oooooh!" when they saw him land outside the half pipe.

But your dad is a strong fellow and wasn't even hurt from that, he even laughed about it afterwards.

That's what makes him cool. Brad can laugh at himself a lot, and if you learned anything from him you should always remember not to take yourself too seriously. Laugh at yourself. Laugh with your friends. Laughter and mirth are easily the best cure-alls I have come across over the years by hanging out with your dad.

I remember the time your father and I were in Australia. Your dad was working in Melbourne, so your Uncle Matt and I decided it would be a good time to visit Australia for two weeks. Getting down there we had to endure a 22 hour flight, but it was worth it just being able to watch, in person, a toilet bowl flush counter clockwise. Being semi-adventerous folk, we decided to set out from Melbourne to Sydney. We had two choices - follow the highway along the coast (Princes Highway) or take the outback highway (Hume Highway). We decided to take the outback one. It was really fun, we were in God's country and it was like visiting, well, a whole new country. Crazy signs, creatures and sights along that road. Even came across a McDonalds, which we got very excited about. So excited that when we left the parking lot, our bellies filled with tender grade D meat, your father was driving for a good mile on the right side of the road.

I, having far better eyesight than your meat-laden father, saw a large truck in the distance bearing down on us in the opposite direction in our same lane, calmly pointed and said, "Truck?" to him.

He immediately realized he was driving on the wrong side of the road, and swerved into the left lane. He turned to me and said with a half smile, "Oops." Matt cackled from the back seat.

That made for a good laugh on our way to Sydney were we spent New Year's Eve 2000 drinking across from the Sydney Opera House for the turn of the millenium.

The lesson learned, girls, is that we all make mistakes in life. Just have to make the proper correction, laugh them off, and move on.

Once your dad returned to the states I was still doing my thing in Hoboken. He met your mom and decided to move up to this area I tried in vain to get him to move to Hoboken. He first moved to the financial district, and during those years it was a ghost town after 5pm. Nicole and he weren't very happy and I kept trying to convince them to move to Hoboken. It was very hard because Brad can be very stubborn at times, and was convinced that New York was better than Hoboken. Once he moved here, he told me he was wrong and that Hoboken was great.

See, never be too proud to admit you were wrong.

I could tell you more stories, but I think that is for another time. Since you both are 21 years old now, and I am 55, we can now both go to the same bars and you can help Uncle Furey find his 4th wife, while I tell you more stories about your father, like ask him how old he was until he could stay home by himself. Of course, if I had a baby sitter as cute as Maureen, I wouldn't be complaining, either.

Just remember you have a great dad. If you are ever lost, he is the guy who will come pick you up. If you ever think you don't know the answer to something, he is the guy who will find it out for you. Just don't forget to buy him something stupid on Father's Day like a Logic Puzzle or some bad sci-fi TV show. But no matter what you get, don't forget to give him a big hug and say "Thank you".

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This page contains a single entry by Furey published on August 3, 2006 12:29 AM.

Is it better loved and lost than to not be loved at all? was the previous entry in this blog.

Ego Stroking And "Plan B" is the next entry in this blog.

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