There was a Tim Horton's ad that aired during the Stanley Cup playoffs that featured a daughter asking her dad if he ever wished that she was born a boy. In an attempt to be sentimental, the commercial was over-the-top cheesy, ending with the dad sheepishly questioning who would be "his little girl" if she had been a boy. Despite the cheese factor, the ad made me realize that I never even thought to ask my dad that question. I didn't have to - John has always openly maintained that he and Elaine were both hoping for girls.

While John's wish for girls came true, I've always felt lucky to have him as my dad. The stereotype of being embarrassed by your parents didn't really apply to John. That's not to say that he never embarrassed me - it's just that the embarrassing moments were few and far between. If anything, John helped to boost my coolness factor at school (which wasn't hard since it was pretty low to begin with). When he chaperoned my elementary school field trip to the Insectarium, all the boys in my class were hanging onto his every word when he told funny stories and jokes on the bus. The novelty that I called my father by his first name quickly became of no consequence.

Getting teased less due to the man-crushes of my classmates was only a minor benefit of John being my dad; I was able to hold my own versus the boys to begin with and they more or less gave up on teasing me when I proved to always have a comeback and never cried. For instance, when I wore full Inuit winter garb that I had acquired during my family's two-year stint in Kuujjuaq to school one day, a boy laughed and called me an Eskimo. I promptly thwarted his attempt to tease me by correcting him - it's not Eskimo, it's Inuit. Duh.

John is a great dad because he simultaneously supports and challenges me. He takes an interest in my life and has always made an effort to engage me in his. Building things with wood in the shop. Assisting with the amateur birding courses he offered locally (I changed the slides while he explained the difference between a woodcock and a woodpecker to a confused woman who then blushed when a guy in the class piped in "cock, pecker - it's all the same"). Playing chess, cribbage, backgammon, catch, darts, and horseshoes. Cycling. Canoeing. Stargazing. I enjoyed some of the engagement activities more than others, but I generally enjoyed spending time with my father (even if I didn't admit it between the ages of 13 and 16).

John is more than a father. He is a close friend. He is always there for me - to listen and share and make me laugh. Not too long ago, he said something to me that resonated: you shouldn't want to have kids, you should want kids to have you. I can attest that John practices what he preaches.

Happy father's day, John - this one's for you.

Circa 1996. I think John was winning and probably won. He usually does.