As I wandered around Denver Comic Con with The Junior Senator yesterday, it was all but impossible for us not to be engaged in a significant amount of people watching. A few paces ahead of us, it looked as though a massive tragedy had befallen Comic Con. Fifteen or twenty people were huddled together, bleeding and broken, body parts dangling uselessly at their sides. There were, of course, made up as zombies. Down another aisle stood an individual posing for pictures wearing a skin-tight, spandex Superman costume. Body image problems he did not have. Sitting at a table were three women of various shapes and sizes wearing Wonder Woman costumes.
There was much to see at Denver Comic Con.
My attention was caught each time I saw a father and son combination. There were many, many fathers and sons at Comic Con yesterday. The duos that were both in costume (more than a handful of them featured dad dressed as Batman and son in Robin togs) were pretty cool to be sure, but I was more interested in the ones that weren’t fully decked out. I was interested in the pairs featuring a dad clearly just along for the ride – the fathers and sons where the son was obviously into it and the dad… wasn’t.
Because that would have been my dad.
When I was a kid, my dad would have given up his Saturday, would have given up the $60 for tickets (and shelled out more cash to buy me some merchandise), would have given up a bit of dignity as he waited in the lines and endured the costumes. He would have allowed me to drag him to Comic Con. He would have asked questions and made wry observations and wandered around the Convention Center and bought me a Coke.
Today, Dad, as every day, I miss you and I love you. I love you so much that I am glad I never had to ask you to take me to Comic Con.
You would have hated it, but you would have taken me.
See, my dad would do anything within reason to make his kids happy.
Happy Fathers Day, Dad.