My Dad was Atticus Finch crossed with Rodney Dangerfield

"If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks.  You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it." -- Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird 

"I found there was only one way to look thin:  hang out with fat people." -- Rodney Dangerfield

How do I describe my Dad to someone who never met him?  How can I condense his larger-than-life character into a few words?  I guess I'll start by saying my Dad was a cross between Atticus Finch and Rodney Dangerfield. 

In his younger days, my Dad could have passed for a movie star.  He had the raven locks of Atticus (as played by Gregory Peck).  Later in life, he developed the same round belly as Rodney.  But it's not really his appearance that draws the comparisons.  It's the character similarities.

My Dad had Atticus' decency, intelligence and deep commitment to family.  He could relate to anyone because he attempted to walk around in their skin.  He was inquisitive and eager to learn what made people tick.  There are people who ask a question, but don't bother to pay attention to the answer.  They are too busy thinking about what they want to say next.  My Dad wasn't that type.  He truly listened.  A rare skill, especially in these days.  He not only heard what you were saying, but he could sense what you weren't saying.  He could tell if you were hiding something.  He would ferret out the truth, but never in a pushy or patronizing way.  He just kept asking questions until you couldn't hide any longer, even from yourself.  He sought the truth because he knew that it's better to live in the light.  My Dad generously shared his own light.  Hard-earned life lessons flowed from him.  Every hardship in life became a teaching moment.  It was like my Dad knew his time on Earth would be short, so he never missed an opportunity to pass on his wisdom. 

When I see Scout sitting next to Atticus on the front-porch swing, I immediately think of the nook under my Dad's arm that I cuddled into for our talks or movie-watching marathons.  My Dad loved his family unabashedly.  He never missed an opportunity to say "I love you" or to engulf us in his legendary bear hugs.  He knew that the most important lesson children need to learn is that they are loved unconditionally.  No matter what mistake I made or how many times I crashed the car (many), I knew my Dad would never stop loving me.  He would work two jobs, drive any distance, and even risk his life for 'his girls.'  I knew we were the most important thing in his life because he said so.    

My Dad also loved pull-my-finger jokes.  Enter Rodney Dangerfield.  When I was little, I used to hold onto my Dad's pointer finger because his hand was too big to hold.  As I grew older, he would still offer his finger to me, but it was to let out a sonic boom.  Then, he'd start running, dragging me along, and yelling, "I'm jet propelled."  As a teenager, I was mortified by his tooting.  As an adult, I have fond memories of my Dad's hot wind hijinks. 

If the typical pull-my-finger joke didn't appeal to your high-brow tastes, my Dad had another comedic gem up his sleeve -- the missing finger jokes.  My Dad lost his right pinky finger in an accident.  He relished asking for a high four and frightening all my friends.  Or, he would put the stump of his missing finger up his nose giving the illusion he was three knuckles deep.  It was the ultimate gross out.  He was also famous for his nine-finger back rubs.

Dad would enhance the missing finger jokes with his creative tales about how it was lost.  I didn't know the real story for years.  Many of his lost finger fairytales taught a life lesson.  For instance, my dad would say, "I lost my finger when I was picking my nose and fell.  Better not pick your nose."  Or, "I was always grabbing food while my mother was cooking.  She'd reach over and slap my hand and tell me not to spoil my dinner.  One night she was chopping meat and forgot she had the cleaver in her hand.  When she reached over to slap my hand for stealing a bite, she accidentally chopped off my finger.  We had finger stew that night." 

My Dad would do anything for a laugh.  He lit up every room he entered with his big booming voice and easy smile.  He must have known that life is too short not to enjoy it.

I will always cherish my Dad's silly side (aka Rodney), and treasure his deep and compassionate side (Atticus).  It's not often you find a man who is equal parts comedic genius and wise sage.  I am so lucky that Marty Brown was my Dad.