Happy Birthday To The Man Who Gave Me His Name, But Not His Looks!

Today is my Father’s birthday, Modern Philosophers.  I used to tease my Dad, aka “Big Austin”, that I was so lucky that he’d given me his name, but not his looks.

While I do look like my Mom, I was blessed to inherit my Dad’s sense of humor, and I’ve tried very hard to share his upbeat view on life.  My Dad was a people person.  Everyone loved him.  He was the sweetest man, who called strangers “Chief”, and always had a smile on his face.

My Dad died while I was a sophomore at NYU, long before I found any success as a writer.  He always believed in me, and even though it went against the future that my Evil Step Mother wanted for me, Dad pushed me to chase after my dream and go to Film School.

When I was promoting “The Retirement Party”, I would try to imagine what he would think of his only son being on TV and the radio.  The way it played out in my head was that he was proud of me, really loved the script, but would tell me to stop being so silly and not allow one bad relationship to make me give up on love forever.

As hard as is might be for you to believe, Modern Philosophers, I wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man in my youth (look at how darn cute I was…why weren’t the girls interested???).  This meant Dad never had to sit me down and talk to me about girls (which probably explains why I’m still so awkward around the opposite sex today).

Right before he died, I started seeing the young lady who would grow up to be my ex-wife, so at least he knew his son had found love.

People often ask me why I like to write stories about bank robberies, and I’ll often reply that it’s my way of getting back at Citibank for taking so many years from my Dad’s life.  He worked at that bank for over 25 years, and I could sense that it wasn’t his dream job, but he did what he had to do to support his family.

My Mom died when I was 3 (we never talk about it, so the details are still very vague to this day) and I have a little sister who is a year and a half younger.  Suddenly, my Dad was on his own with two little rugrats, while also having to deal with the grief of losing the love of his life.  It could not have been easy.

I know that my life was a fashion nightmare in the first years after my Mom’s death.  My Dad had a horrible fashion sense, and I still cringe at the childhood photos of me in plaid pants and a striped shirt.  Maybe now you understand why I just wear a simple toga?

Check out the get ups we’re both wearing in this photo!  Dad’s lucky no one called Child Welfare on him for how he dressed us!

I will always remember my Dad’s ugly ties.  They were short, fat, and weird colors.  In his honor, I wore one of my ugliest ties to work today.  I didn’t tell anyone why I had it on because I just wanted it to be between Big Austin and Little Austin.

I could ramble on and on about dear ole Dad (he liked to call himself that), but that’s only going to make me cry.  I think he would really enjoy this blog, especially the posts by Seamus the Leprechaun since Dad is the reason why I love Notre Dame.

I hope that he would think I’ve done his name proud.

Happy Birthday, Dad!  I love you and really miss you…