Memories of my father and why I wonder, “How Am I Normal?”

Tomorrow is Father’s Day—if you’re lucky enough to still have your father or you have a loving stepfather or an exemplary baby daddy, don’t forget to honor him.

I’ve written about my father several times here and he pops up in my book a lot, too.

I come from one of those families where everyone's a comedian. "You're eight years old?" my father would ask my little friends. "I'm surprised at you. When I was your age, I was ten!" Each new playmate we brought to the house was subjected to Daddy's repertoire of one-liners, straight from Yogi Berra's B-list. "I know your mother," he'd tell them. "We went to different schools together."

Daddy was a funny man. Funny ha-ha and funny odd. When he called to inform his sister about a death in the family, he was both at the same time.

"Joyce," he began to break the news, "how many uncles do we have?"

"Why, we have one uncle," she answered, to which he bellowed, "WRONG!"

What a nut, huh?

On our road trip my sister Lori reminded me of something else he once said, which I’d totally forgotten.

“Why should I worry about driving around in clean underwear? If I get in an accident, I’m gonna shit my pants anyway.”

Aaah, the wisdom of Dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there!