my dad

It seems like there's been a lot of discussion in the media lately about girls and marketing to young girls, and how society is "making" girls become obsessed with princesses, etc. First of all, I don't care how much you try to avoid it, princesses seem to enter the picture one way or another. And honestly, I don't think it's the worst thing that will ever happen. I was really against Barbie, but I think that was based more on my own insecurity than anything else, and I really don't think letting my four year old play with Barbie is going to make her anorexic in the future. Who knows, I could be wrong, but I hope I'm not.

In my opinion, if you want your daughter to be intelligent, independent, strong-willed, self-sufficient, compassionate, and all the other many qualities that we want our children, male or female, to develop, just give them options.

My dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye, that's for sure, but I am definitely thankful for how he raised my sister and I. We grew up playing Chess, and Stratego, and trust me, he didn't let us win. We also grew up biking and training for week long bike trips. We learned to assemble and disassemble a tent, but don't ask me to go camping. I like the biking part, camping, I'm not so sure about. And just about every Sunday afternoon, we'd go for a family hike. My sister and I used to complain and moan and groan about this. But guess who's the one trying to get Walter to go for hikes, me. But do you want to know who my sister and I asked when we wanted to wear make-up for the first time or shave our legs for the first time, my dad.

I'm pretty sure my dad still holds gym memberships to two different exercise facilities. Apparently, one is better for playing racquetball than the other. Without really teaching us, he taught us that exercise is important.

He also taught us to research everything. Make lists (I'm not kidding, I made a pro and con list before I agreed to marry Walter), and read--a lot. Oh, and don't forget to annotate with perfectly underlined sentences and asterisks next to key paragraphs.

Every weekend morning, I'd wake up and my dad would either be at the gym, or sitting in his chair reading, with a red, Bic pen, and a clip board with white printer paper on it. I'll admit, I do have better taste in pens. Bic, really?

I think as a result of all of that, of both of my parents not subscribing to the phenomenon, this is "too girly" or "this is just for boys", I feel very well rounded. I don't feel well rounded because of school. All of that crap they tell you about needing to take math and science so that you can be a competent adult--lies, all lies. Don't worry, our home school curriculum contains math and science. I do hope that Isabella inherited some of Walter's math skills. If she did, it will save her a lot of tears. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with a girl wanting to be "girly". My sister is one of the smartest people I know, and she can wear a pair of stilettos like nobody's business.

So, dad, thank you for teaching me the importance of exercise; for giving a me a love of books and learning; for taking me on those torturous hikes and the many weekends spent training for bike trips. Thank you for reading poetry to us and letting us style your hair at the same time; for teaching me the importance of research and for letting me wear make-up and shave my legs when mom wouldn't. Thank you for putting up with my deplorable math skills and really crappy math SAT scores. Thank you for the countless patient hours spent teaching me to drive stick shift and for making me learn how to quickly shift into first on a hill before allowing me out of the driveway. It's true, before my sister and I were allowed to drive the car on our own, we had to shift to first and successfully pull up the driveway without rolling back. Ask Walter who's better at driving at driving stick--ME!!! Thank you for letting me have my yearly bike trip tantrum after a day of excruciatingly steep hills.

Thank you for paying for school and my wedding and for selling the Echo to me for one dollar. I think I still owe you that dollar.

Love,

Sierra