Boxing and Peanut Butter Ice Cream

It’s Father’s Day.  One of those days that makes me just a little sad every year.  My dad passed away in 1999 from lung cancer – many years after he quit smoking, drinking and drugs.  I think it’s weird that I don’t really get sad around his birthday or near the anniversary of his death.  I guess it might make sense though.  My parents split up when I was young.  Dad came back briefly when I was 5, and then invited us back into his life when I was 11 or 12.  The memories I have are precious and few.  Father’s Day is the day that all the other kids get to spend with their dad, while I almost never did.

So, in honor of Father’s Day, I’ll share with you one of my favorite memories of my dad.

As I said earlier, we reconnected with Dad when I was 11 or 12.  We’d visit him once or twice each year.  Even though there wasn’t very much for a kid to do at his condo, I always loved to visit.

He had 3 televisions in his condo – 1 in the living room, 1 in the second bedroom/art studio, and 1 in his bedroom.  The living room TV was usually tuned to baseball or basketball.  The second bedroom TV was usually tuned to golf or tennis.  The TV in his room had the liveliest sports on it.

One time, when my brother and I came to visit, Dad was watching boxing in his bedroom.  I don’t know who the fighters were.  I remember climbing up onto his big 4-poster bed and reclining on the pillows next to him.  His girlfriend brought us big bowls of peanut butter ice cream and chocolate chip cookies.  Dad taught me about the different punches as we ate our ice cream and spent some quality time together.

Now, when I eat peanut butter ice cream or watch boxing/MMA fights, I feel connected to my dad once again.

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