Let’s put the speculation and rumors to rest right now: I love my father. He is a kind and gentle man, and has raised me for many years (some would say my whole life). I continue to learn from him to this day.
That being said, I have a daydream. Unlike Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., my dream is about my real father. He is from the future. He leads the rebellion in the Robot Wars and came back in time to protect my mother from a super-advanced cyborg known only as The Erasamotron. They fled from this cyborg, but in the meantime, fell in love. Unfortunately The Erasamotron killed my biological father by pulling his spine from his body and strangling him with it. My mother went on to meet the kind, gentle man who has done an exemplary job of raising both me and my half-brother.
Other things about my biological father, according to my daydream:
He is a superb middle-distance runner. He ran in the 2248 Summer Olympics and got silver in the 800 meters.
He has a futuristic hair style which would look silly today but is the height of fashion in the 23rd Century.
He is part alien. His human mother’s family disowned his mother (my grandmother) after she ran off with a Wixputlibotbxy.
His favorite meal is genetically modified tuna sandwiches.
There are no vowels in my father’s name.
He has a birthmark that looks like a thousand monks chanting on a mountaintop.
He keeps Kosher.
He is slow to anger. He would never throw the first punch, unless he is fighting a robot.
He is an artist, a poet, a singer-songwriter, an actor-director, a gourmet chef, and he knows how to make a quilt.
He has dark, brooding eyes.
Like all tragic heroes, he has a fatal flaw.
Between my biological father and my general day-to-day father, there are exceedingly high expectations of me. I hope to one day live up to those expectations, one blog entry at a time.