Today, is my dad, John Bolt‘s 63rd birthday.
I was going to do the typical facebook status complete with
embarrassing sweet photos, but instead I decided to write a little more about how I feel about my dad, and why I’m so glad that he is my dad.
My dad’s parents never told him that they loved him, that may be a generational thing (I don’t know), but my dad swore that he would never stop from telling his kids that he loved them and he hasn’t. I can never remember a time, even through my teenage years, which were no picnic for him (I’m sure), that I didn’t know deep down in my core know that my dad loved me. My dad always encouraged me to try stuff, to do what I loved, and to get back up when I fell down.
We would spend hours in our driveway in Atlanta when I was in elementary school shooting hoops, throwing a baseball, playing football, or making up games with frisbees. (I’ll take this opportunity to say “I’m sorry” for pushing you off the side of driveway during a competitive football game and causing you to tear the ligaments in your ankle.) Even on your crutches you would zoom around not letting a little bump in the road stop you from pursuing your dreams and your love of journalism while making sure me and my sister could pursue ours.
I could write a book full of stories of why I love my dad or how he showed me how to be a good person, a good partner, and a good father. Stories of little league baseball coaching, high school baseball umpire arguing, watching him perform in community theater, hearing others praise him for his work and, more importantly, for his presence. Stories of challenging me in my screw ups and standing with me when I failed, stories filled with laughter and tears, joy and pain. Stories that all point to what a wonderful, inspiring, faithful, amazing role model my dad has been and continues to be.
Now for some sweet, embarrassing photos.
I love you, Dad!