Who's My Daddy?...

It doesn't take Maury Povich to figure this one out...

Well folks, my dad won the phrase that pays contest and therefore I shall write a little about him. (Dave Bell, as first runner up, will be highlighted next month)

(Please keep in mind this blog was started on February 2. The "Phrase that Pays" was any form of happy birthday on my Facebook wall)

I met my dad 32 years ago today. I don't remember what the day was like or who else was there. I think my mom was there and my brother may or may not have been. Fittingly, it was indeed the internationally renowned holiday of Groundhog's Day. My dad claims, and I do believe him, that when I was born on that fateful February 2, 1980, he told the doctor, "If he sees his shadow can you put him back in for 6 more weeks?" Welcome to the world, Jim Duba.

I have some very vague memories as a kid, but most of the ones I do have involve my family traveling through most of the country over the summers. Prominent memories include Mount Rushmore (as I was sick as usual), Jellystone National Park, and seeing a herd of bison somewhere along the way. We used to have a mobile home, or a "camper" as we called it. Every summer for years on end, we would head down to a campground in Maryland. Part of this trip involved meeting his late friend Walter Price and his wife who frequented the camp site as well. At this campsite I met a dog of one of the camp staff, named Sheba. Sheba would frequent the campsites hayride excursions I remember partaking in at the camp. Later, when I was 5 years old, my parents surprised my brother and I with a dog. My dad let me name it, and thus my best friend Sheba was created.

My dad would also encourage my involvement in sports, and kept up as a coach for me for as long as he could. Teeball, coachpitch, a little bit of little league - I disliked baseball - and soccer. Soccer was probably the most influential for me. I used to be on a travel team for two years in 4th grade through 5th grade. I did not usually play much, I had a role on that team. So, when I was cut from the team and wanted to continue to play soccer, my dad volunteered to help coach my team. My dad also took note of who else was cut from the travel soccer team and who I had become friends with. He decided to pick up one of my friends who was cut as well, Brandon Barrett. To this day,  Brandon is one of my most trusted and oldest friends. Coincidentally, my dad would select almost the same core team for the next three years. Our teams had two championship seasons, I think I was an all-star, if not an MVP once in a while. As the coach's son, I was treated like every other player, but I had to work harder as after practice, I still had to be with the coach, and I could either make him happy with my performance or have him drill it in my head at home.

When my grandfather passed away (my mom's father) in 2005, my dad was very strong through the whole ordeal. This was significant to me because my grandmother was in the hospital and totally did not have any last moments with my grandmother. And this all occurred in Maryland. My mom was on her end. My dad stayed strong, helped her as much as he could, visited as frequently as he could, and kept the house together and provided some amount of comfort to my mom as she was surely tortured by all those events.

The one memory that I remember the most vividly, however, is back when maybe I was between 9 and 11 years old. I had a sleepover at my friend Austin's house. My mom picked me up and we went home for a couple minutes before running up to the local Caldor down the street. My dad asked what I did at Austin's. I probably said something like the norm - "played with transformers, watched TV, played Nintendo..." At this point, my dad cut me off, saying, "You really like that Nintendo thing huh?" I gushed a little more about the Nintendo and how much fun it was. As my mom was getting ready to leave, my dad reached into his wallet, pulled out two 100 dollar bills, handed them to me, and said, "Treat yourself, you deserve it." As a young kid, that is like winning the lottery.

I am pretty sure this was around the time of my birthday. I will never know if it was arranged between my mom and my dad to make this purchase, as I can remember my mom grumbling about it a little. Every year when my dad wishes me a happy birthday - be it over facebook, phone, in person, text - I always remember that day I got the Nintendo. As I raise my son Rocco, and any other potential kids in the future, I hope that one day they can look back on their life and have their own Nintendo type moment.

Thank you, Dad.