Daddy’s
Girl
Ashley Paulson
Indiana Wesleyan University
ENG-140 College Writing
Professor Debbie Hill
January 27, 2025
Daddy’s Girl
Reading one of Barbara Johnson’s
books years ago, I came across a quote that has always stuck with me. “To be in
your children's memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today.” This
quote always makes me think of my dad and the fond memories I have of him. While
my young adult life was full of grief and trauma, my dad’s memory reminds me
that I was loved and valued. After
he passed, I knew I wanted to be just like him, hard-working, fun, and most
importantly, present.
Dad was incredibly hard-working.
This was evident by the slight puff that accumulated underneath his mocha brown
eyes at the end of each night. When I was a kid, I remember watching him leave
for his overnight shifts dressed in jet black slacks with a crisp white button
up shirt complete with a tie that was some variation of navy blue. His salt and
pepper curls sat neatly in place atop his head and the woodsy sent of his
cologne would linger long after he left. As I got older the night shifts faded
and he could be found at his living room desk, leaned back in his chestnut
brown chair with a back made of 2-inch slats, on a conference call before
anyone else in the house was up. If he wasn’t in his chair, he was out back
scooping leaves out of the pool, talking to the doves, and as usual, taking a
call. Having two children by the age of twenty-one with no college education
meant having to work from the bottom up and that is exactly what my dad did.
Seeing my dad go from framing artwork in a less than desirable part of town to
becoming a Network Engineer Specialist, that kept cellular towers up and
running for a Fortune 500 telecommunications company, allowed me to see the
value of working hard. While his hard work and perseverance defined much of who
he was, it was his playful child-like spirit that brought the best memories.
If work hard then play hard were a person, it would have
been my dad. Dad loved to play around, especially with his guitar. I have vivid
memories of him as he sat on the edge of the couch, in his preferred spot, two
feet on the floor. He’d play his guitar that was perched perfectly in his lap
and sing “Bria can’t jump rope” to the tune of his favorite Jane’s Addiction
song. My sister, Bria, would get so annoyed. Meanwhile, I would roll around the
floor in a fit a laughter. I can still see him and his obnoxious grin as he
sang and played trying to get a rise out of her. This is now one of our
favorite shared memories that we hold dear. Dad loved cars too. I think he
threw himself a party when I turned sixteen and was able to be his designated
driver home from the racetrack. I didn’t mind. Those Saturday nights at the
dragstrip were filled with life lessons as he weighed in on my relationships,
his usual smack talk to his buddies that were closer to my age than his, and
that big unmistakable laugh that was uniquely his. It was a perfect mix of the
bass of his voice and simple chuckle. I’ll never forget the ride home on one of
our last trips to the track, dad riding passenger in my midnight black
Chevrolet Camaro SS. As I drove down the interstate another car pulled up
beside me and revved his engine calling me to race. Street racing was an
absolute no-no for my dad, so I ignored the guy, but he was relentless. After a
couple miles of the guy trying to get me to bite dad told me to “down shift and
leave his ass in the dust.” Of course, I did as I was told. I downshifted and
slammed my foot on the gas while simultaneously throwing up the two-finger
peace sign salute. Later that night we recounted the adventure and laughed
until our bellies hurt. There really wasn’t anything quite like his laugh. Although
his fun, child-like spirit created some of the best memories, it was his
presence that left the biggest mark on my life.
Dad taught me that it was important to work hard, have fun, and not take life too seriously, but the most important lesson he left me with was how to be a present parent. Dad was always there. It didn’t matter that he was only in his early thirties trying to build a career with no college education and practically no experience. That alone could drive a man to be a workaholic but there was nothing more important to him than my sister and me. He’d spend hours, sometimes complete weekends, traveling from city to city taking us to soccer games. When we were finally old enough to drive, he was still right there on the sidelines yelling louder than every other dad and correcting my running form. He played basketball and ran track in high school so it drove him insane how I would run with my elbows tucked up against my sides with my hands flopping around from left to right. Even when one of the cars needed repaired, and he had to spend several nights a week in the garage, he’d allow me to be his shadow. Through those nights in the garage, I learned how to change spark plugs, how to upgrade the exhaust, and how to do all the day to day maintenance a driver should know. I can change my own tires, brakes, oil, headlights, taillights and more, all because he took the time to teach me. It would have been much quicker and easier to just do it for me but that wasn’t him. It wasn’t just about me learning how to do it, it was about being present and spending time together. Now that I’m a parent, I understand why.
In
the end, my dad made me who I am today. He took the time to teach me that hard
work, a little fun, and being present leaves the biggest legacy. I am a better
mother to my kids because of the lessons he taught me, like how hard work pays
off in the long run or how life would be boring if you didn’t take the time to
have fun, even in the tough moments. Most importantly, I am a better mother
because he taught me the value of being present. There are no memories to make,
no lives to touch, no legacy to live if we are not present first. I am forever
grateful that he chose to be present for me.
