We have so much to thank our fathers for. In addition to teaching us how to ride bikes and be good sports, they’ve also been our sagely guides through life. As a small token of our affection, we’re counting down to Father’s Day (this Sunday, heads up!) by celebrating our dads’ style, wit and wisdom.
What did your dad like to wear? Like any West Indian man worth his brass, my dad owned a large selection of shirt-jacks, the four-pocket short sleeve button front shirts more commonly known around Latin America as the Guayabera. He wore these to church when the Trinidadian heat became especially oppressive and wool suits were out of the question. He still harbors a solid rotation and will break out a crisp shirt-jack around mid-July. When it comes to fancy evening attire, David Dyer is a man of bow ties. On his wedding day, he wore a floppy brown velvet to top off his beige three-piece tuxedo. He has a red bow tie that he’s been rocking since the ’90s. He tried to wear it to a wedding recently, and I’m pretty sure my mother, June, lobbied heavily for its retirement. My dad is definitely a fan of neckwear, I have great memories of helping him pick out punchy ties on mornings before he went to work. My dad’s weekend gear consists of old vacation t-shirts that he rocks while mowing the lawn or working on his car.
What music did he listen to? There was one radio station on constant repeat in my house, Family Radio. Other than the occasional smooth jazz station, that’s literally the only thing we listened to. He once marked a tiny notch on our radio, to make for quick and easy access without having to fumble around the FM dial. He has gotten progressive in his older age and has since given Family Radio. He is now an avid listener and contributor to NPR, we often end up listening to the same episodes of The Moth Radio Hour and This American Life.
What would he say? Does he have a favorite phrase or saying? Something anecdote-y. David Dyer is a man of many a quick proverb and witty quip. He always has a story and a laugh to share with everyone—supermarket clerks, gas station attendants and even policemen issuing tickets. He takes great pleasure in saying things like “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” “Lord willin,” and “Sufficient for the day is the trouble.” I can always rely on him to impart some bit of wisdom—solicited or not. I will undoubtedly shove these pearls of wisdom onto my children too.