My dad is like no other.
Now he drives a decent car but he was forever driving beaters when we were kids. Thrifty, he'd say. (Mom might say "cheap".)
He worked for 100 years as a feed miller amongst cultural conservatives who liked their bosses male, their politicians & neighbors white, and their entertainers straight. Yet, he is an NPR-listening, New York Times-reading, multi-racial adopting, Broadway showtune-loving, Alan Alda-appreciator.
When I was very small he used to pull in the driveway in his white pickup with music blaring from the radio. The vehicle said "country" but, of course, the speakers were screaming with Vivaldi or Stravinski, never Willie or Reba.
He'd do anything for his kids. And this is possibly his only fault.
He worked insane hours when I was growing up and now greatly enjoys the hours he gets to spend with his grandchildren during developmental stages that must have gone by in a blur when he was raising us.
Despite those hours of work, he ALWAYS made it a priority to be at volleyball games, track meets, basketball games, soccer games, gymnastics meets, concerts, plays..... I don't know that there is a proper measure for such things, but I bet he was always the proudest parent in the stands or audience.
When something in our car or house breaks and we aren't sure what to do, I always call Dad first. He just knows stuff. (And what he doesn't know he does a remarkable job of making up and sounding good!)
He set the bar very high for his daughters' husbands. We just assumed all men wanted their wives to do the things that they loved! My mom has in my dad her best friend and biggest fan. There would have been no theater in my life if my dad hadn't supported my mom in directing all those shows. He is proud to call himself Mr. Hope VanScoy.
He's so very different from my husband. And yet they are both the very best at their Dad-ness.
Mostly when I think about my dad, I think.... I'm lucky.