La Fête des Pères

“Lolo, where does your dad live?”

“He lives in a land far, far, away called California.” I replied.

“Are you going to see him this weekend for Father’s Day?”

“I wish I could, but much to my surprise, being your nanny hasn’t yet afforded me the opportunity to invest in my own private jet to fly to California.”

“But don’t you think that all he really wants for Father’s Day is a big hug and kiss from you?”

“Julia, you are absolutely right. I’m sure that would be one of the best Father’s Day things I could do.”

So Dad, if you want to fly me back to California for the weekend to receive a hug and kiss from your only daughter, then I’m absolutely okay with it. ;) Until then….

Internet, meet my dad:

He’s Italian. He’s well-dressed. He cooks better than any restaurant I’ve ever been to and in true Italian fashion, he talks with his hands flailing about. He hasn’t been seen without a beard since the late 60’s and I’m fairly certain if he shaved it, I’d unknowingly walk right past him on the street. He loves his chocolate at 72%, his coffee iced, and his kids at his side. If given the opportunity, he would spend his days outside hiking, exploring, adventuring; while passing the night watching The Andy Griffith Show with my brother, myself and a brick of chocolate. He doesn’t lose his temper, he doesn’t raise his voice, and he doesn’t know how to use the turn signal in the car. But it’s okay because he trusts me; trusts me to drive his new car when I’m home, trusts that I’ll choose the right path, trusts that I’ll ask for his help when I need it.


He refuses to let a winter go by without skiing a Black Diamond hill, a summer pass without frequenting the music festivals, or dessert plate with Cannoli get past him. At 59 years old, he can still out-hike his 25 year old daughter on the trails of Montana de Oro; or any wilderness trail for that matter. He’s the type of person to seek the good in people, open up his home and invite them over for dinner and some good conversation. He’s a genuine listener, a first-rate advice-giver, successful therapist, and compassionate father. But more importantly, he knows when to employ each role. He’s balanced, likes his alone time, loves all things organized and has quirks that still make me laugh.

Like his “Double Dress Sock” rule. Six year old Lauren sat with him on the closet floor, getting ready for the respective work and school day, as he intently explained that “You always wear two pairs of dress socks because they’re thinner and us Migliore’s have narrow heels.” As I pulled up my second pair of pink argyles, my mom walked in and interjected:

“Who do you want to drive you to school, today? Mom or Dad?”

“DAD!” I blurted out.

And that was that.

Suffice it to say, I’m a daddy’s girl; always have been. There’s something to be said about the Father-Daughter relationship that differs from the rest. They teach. They console. They support. My dad is the role model who taught me to negotiate fairly, compromise appropriately, and love unconditionally. Instead of fighting, we discuss. Instead of judging, we consider. We listen fully, respond accordingly and as a result, I gained self confidence, mutual respect, and pride in myself.

When I called him New Year's Eve because I was homesick, he called me back an hour later with a Southwest confirmation flight number. When I was going through some emotionally tough times, he planned a Father-Daughter weekend for us in Morro Bay. When I was living in New York, he met me there and watched every dance class. When I was nervous to move to France alone, he offered two weeks of himself to aid the transition, and when I was on the verge of frostbite, tears, and giving up Lyon because of the frigid temperatures, the cancelled trains, and the unaccommodating French family, he gave me his scarf, opened his arms and hugged me tightly. But more importantly, he gives me just enough space to discover things on my own, attempt my own adventures, make my own mistakes, and learn the appropriate lessons.

So this past Father’s Day, while I wish that I could’ve been there sitting with my dad on the front porch with his iced coffee as he completed his weekly crossword puzzle, I know that it’s not about the actual “day” as much as it is about the “times”. .. and I look forward to many more times of traveling, exploring, laughing and learning, with the occasional Cannoli (or two).


Happy Father’s Day, Dad. See you in a few months. In Europe. When you come to visit me. (Oh, I’m sorry, did I just make that public and increase the pressure for you to buy your ticket? That’s right I did!) Love you and "tinking" about you!

Gratitude:

• I just got back from Grenoble. Very cute. Very quaint. Very cold.
• Today is the "Fete de la musique" and there are music festivals going on all day around France to celebrate Summer Solstice.
• New and exciting plans in the next month deeming the month of July, the month of travel.
• It's supposed to be sunny tomorrow.