Dear FA readership,

Two father related journals in as many weeks!? Well now. Some one has gotten themselves an Oedipus/Hamlet complex, now hasn't he?

- They Might be Giants, Never Knew Love

I was doing an art project at my parent's house the other day. This project was an oil pastel thing, where we'd etch off portions of black pastel to reveal white paper and thus render an image. My dad comes in and watches me begin to pastel up the paper.

"What'cha doing?"

Now, I have a dilemma; I don't want to exclude him, but I also don't want to treat him like I'm a pompous art student. So I begin a long winded description, until he finally says:

"Oh, like a relief."

I was stunned. I mean, it was nearly exactly what I was doing, not the word I would have used but it suited it perfectly. I told him that I had no idea he knew about that kind of thing and he tells me:

"Oh, yeah. I used to be a sculptor in high school." Then, he starts laughing, "One time they told me to make a full sized bust. So I did... it was great."

I never knew that about my old man; I mean, yeah, I could picture him making a full-sized set of breasts for a school art project (for those of you that didn't get that from my rather lame retelling), but that he was a sculptor. Christ, is that all I don't know about him? I don't mean to gush, but this is the first time being really impressed by my dad in a long while.

-Got. Pal.