Meet My Dad, Onder

Remember when you all got to meet my mom, Anca?  Well today, in honor of Father's Day, I'd like you to meet my dad, Onder.  He grew up in Turkey, spent his last lira on a plane to San Francisco in his teens, and studied at UC Berkeley in the height of the hippie era.  He earned his Ph.D. in structural engineering without a super-powered TI calculator.  He owned a computer when you had to know coding to make it do anything.  So basically, he's seen a few things in his life.

He also happens to be one of a dying breed of men who doesn't need a how-to blog to guide him through manly trials and tribulations.  The kind who fixes your cheap Target sandals with some twine that he just had in the car, who changes the oil in your car without asking whether you had it checked recently, and who sets up the wireless network in your house without calling the cable people.  In an era where we've (arguably) gone overboard in exalting the DIY (case in point: there were too many possibilities to link to there, so I didn't), he truly lives DIY without even knowing what that acronym stands for.  And most importantly to me, he is my biggest fan, and for that, I owe him lots and lots of thank you's.  So here are just a few reasons why I love my dad, Onder:

He loved me even when I was in that stage where I just looked constantly confused.

He took me skiing when I could barely walk and let me throw snowballs at him with no complaints.

He (1) put up with the ridiculous crowds, smelly people and shrieking children at Disneyland on multiple occasions just for me (sorry Disneyland-ers, I'm a hater), and (2) while there, served as my ride when I was too lazy to walk.

{And he wore those socks.  Also what's up with the fake cop car?  So unclear.}

He rocked the mustache before it was ironic or hipster or whatever.

He complied with all of my forms of girly torture.  He even let me paint his face on occasion.

He took me fishing to places where I actually caught fish (this picture is on a boat), grilled up our catches, and taught me not to be afraid to eat a fish served whole (but you can still have the cheek meat if you want it).

Oh, and we look exactly alike.

{You might think we were related.  Just a little.}

Happy Father's Day Dad!

P.S. Dads are the original hipsters.  You must have seen that by now, but in case you've been hiding under a rock (or a BarBri book), click, scroll, and be enlightened.