The One For My Dad.

This post isn’t snarky, silly, or sarcastic. No memes. No misheard lyrics or whimsical pictures of my kids being childlike. And not even one reference to my cats.

This is a post for my Dad.

Put quite simply, he’s my hero. He gave me the first Boston album I ever owned (Third Stage), drove with me to the drugstore after my first period, and took me to see Etta James in concert after a particularly tragic breakup. His recipe for Fettuccini Alfredo is unrivaled, try as I might to emulate it.  I could listen to him play the guitar for hours. And he wouldn’t dream of leaving me hanging when I lob a quote from Monty Python, Wayne’s World, or any of the Mystery Science Theater 3000 movies.

He’s a man of very few words and even fewer methods of technological communication- but he’s never once left any doubt of how much he loves me.

And right now he’s very, very sick. In fact, at the time of this posting, he’s being wheeled into surgery. Big, bad, Shouldn’t Be Happening To Anyone’s Dad Let Alone My Great Guy Of A Father surgery.

So I’m asking for a little help.

Some of you are religious…some not quite so much. But I believe that most of you believe in something bigger than y’all…so I’m begging for some good thoughts. A prayer or two. A mental high-five. A momentary acknowledgement of “That Dave Flynn is a stellar fella and needs to stick around for a few more decades.”

It would mean simply everything to me.

My big sis designed these incredible buttons o’ support for my Pop- and even though his mustache isn't quite so handlebar-y (at all), it’s a pretty good approximation with the Maverick sunglasses. And I’d love to place a gigantic order and then send one out to each of you. My sibs and I have decided to wear these pins until he’s completely, one thousand percent better. But in the meantime, we’ll email him all of the pictures of folks wearing his likeness in support. So message me your deets if you want in.

Or just say a mental li’l something.

And thanks.