I bought a drum kit for my eighteenth birthday. I thought I was learning to play the drums but I was about to learn something incredible about my Dad. I already knew he was a drummer at heart: the fingers tapping a mile a minute on the table during breakfast, lunch, and dinner gave it away.

He worked at a steel mill to pay the bills with a side gig that was more like a second full-time job doing roofing and siding. Once I had my driver’s license and school let out, I was thrilled to help him by doing dump runs with the old shingles he had removed. With a rake in hand, I got in the queue of men and their truckloads of various types of garbage. Removing a full truckload of asphalt shingles that are inclined to stick together was a physical workout in the hot sun, but I loved every minute. After all, I was helping my Dad.

My Dad and I shared more than time roofing together: I was named after him, have his jet black hair and fair skin that darkens with every minute of sunshine, and a quiet contemplative nature that seems well-suited for solving problems of various kinds.

Later, my Dad went on to become a master custom kitchen installer and I have the small, but stunning, kitchen to show for it. Doubtless, it is the most beautiful part of my century-old home.

Thinking back to my eighteenth birthday, someone issued a challenge to my “Dear Ol’ Dad” as he’s inclined to call himself and we call him too: “I’ve heard you’re a drummer. Why don’t you sit down and play something on the drums?” Not one to back away from a challenge, my Dad sat down in the seat, took a moment to think about what he wanted to play and then seemingly effortlessly punched out an epic version of the drummer’s symphony “Wipe Out.” My eyes widened and jaw dropped. I had watched my father routinely tap out tunes on the car steering wheel or kitchen table, but this level of talent was previously unknown to me. I had no idea that he was an exceptional drummer by anyone’s standards.

But, it wasn’t his drumming that most impressed me. I learned something about my Dad that day. He had sold his drum kit just prior to my birth. Based on his skill, it was clear that it must have been one of his most prized possessions. A humble and reserved man, he never ever told me about selling it. That day, I learned that my Dad had sold one of his greatest treasures for me. And, in the same way he excelled at Wipe Out, he excelled at being an amazing father.

He didn’t always know what to say and he worked the equivalent of two full-time jobs most of my life, but he was always present when he was there. I had many serious challenges during my childhood and frequently retreated to my bedroom crying. Whenever he must have overheard my sobs, I’d hear a faint knock on the door, “Can I come in?” he asked and proceeded to sit on the edge of my bed. “I don’t know what to say to make it better but I want you to know that your Dad loves you,” he would regularly say. And on my eighteenth birthday, the day in which he masterfully hammered out a drummer’s anthem, I knew that more than ever.

Happy Father’s Day to the best Dad ever!