Dad

My father is my hero for many reasons.

The obvious one is because he dedicated 22 years of his life serving the people of New York City as a firefighter.

And my father loved his job. He didn't love it for the "8 days of work a month" or for the benefits or so he can act like a big shot and say he's "on the job". He loved what he did. And he has countless stories to prove it. And just ask, he'll tell you. He also worked in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Brooklyn because that's where the action was. Even though his father was on the job and he could have gone to any house, he chose that one and stayed there.

Everyone has their own September 11, 2001 stories. And my dad, while not there during the collapse of the towers, was there for months following. Because that was his job. I'll never forget that afternoon when all NYC fireman were called in to work and my mother told him that she didn't want him going in. And he just said to her that he had to go. It was his job and those were his brothers.

My dad lost friends, went to way too many funerals and cried a lot. He was never too tough to show how sad he really was.

But no matter how macho my dad was when it came to his job, it never stopped him from coming home and cooking dinner. Or helping with homework. Or doing laundry. Or playing with us to give mom a break.

He isn't perfect. He is a little rough around the edges and he didn't always know what to do with a house full of women (especially since he grew up with five brothers and only one sister). But he tried.

And he did whatever it took to support his family. That always meant having a second job, but at times it also meant having a third.

I am lucky to have him. And even luckier to marry someone who I think is a lot like my father. They are probably the two most selfless people I know.

Happy Father's Day to all!