( On Soli, or About Dad )

Originally, this post was begun in the early hours of this morning and had all the makings of a drunken tribute to my father. And while that wouldn’t have been so bad (if I know my father at all, he would probably be very entertained) the mechanics of typing escaped me in my drunken state and I gave up the pursuit of writerly stereotypes. Instead, I’m very much sober with a bastard behind the eye and today is my dad’s birthday.

I’ve always been asked: “what’s it like having Soli Philander as a father?”. And over the years, my reaction to the question has varied. When I was younger, the question was met with an enthusiastic “it’s great!” and not much else. Which is true. It is great and always has been. As I aged and entered that awkward minefield known collectively as being a teenager, I quietly resented being asked. What do you mean what it is like? Lemme ask you a question: what is it like having your dad as a father? I always said I didn’t know how to answer that question, because he’s always been Dad to me. There weren’t moments when he suddenly morphed into a superstar and began acting differently. Having Soli Philander as a father is pretty much like having a father anywhere.

I’m older now, hopefully a little bit wiser and tentatively calling myself an adult. And like before, my answer to the question of Soli Philander and his father status has changed utterly. But before we talk about my brand new answer, let’s talk about Dad.

Whenever I think about my dad, hot on its heels comes the knowledge that I am lucky beyond lucky to have him around. For my entire life, my dad has always been a feature. He has always been there. He has never (wrongly or overwhelmingly) judged me for the things I do. He has always been supportive and always had time to listen to me prattle on about whatever huge and life-altering problem I was facing at the time. He’s been fair and fun and generous and loving. You couldn’t really ask for more in a dad.

Except, I did get more than that. I got a father brimming full of his own special talent, a man who has a way of putting everybody at their ease, coaxing out laughter as easily as one, two, three. I got a father passionate about his passions, who puts his all into everything he does, who works hard and who is always, always, determined to see his dreams made reality. Who stays true to himself and his principles, who views the world with open eyes, open mind, open heart. Who never fails to give people a chance. Who believes in honesty and loyalty and charity. Who has a strong sense of wrong and right. A father who holds himself up as an example to his children. An example of what it means to be a powerful, sensitive, rational individual while retaining the capacity to believe in magic, to have hope and faith and to look at the world and know that all is not lost.

I also got a father who gently pokes fun at everyone and everything. A father with a sense of humour that is in flux and who exemplifies that notion that if you laugh, the world laughs with you. A father who translated English songs into Afrikaans as he sung them. A father who played board games and silly games, who spun me around when I was little and made me feel like flying. Who wove tales of his childhood together with tales of mine, who spun stories and once, almost convinced me that he was a CIA agent. A father who taught me how to play Steps and Stones and who played Dodgeball and Nikkies and who, for a time, coached my netball team to a bunch of wins.

I got a father who quotes silly movies and Shakespeare as easily as if they were not utterly different. A father who reads and is well-read, with opinions and ideas and ideals. A father who is keenly interested in issues and news, who is open to listening to some of ‘my’ music and is not afraid to share his subsequent opinions about it. I got a father who moves in a world of interesting and fantastic people, some of whom it has been my privilege to know all my life. I got a father all my friends have loved. I got a father who made it very easy to be a daughter, and a good one, at that. Who makes me feel proud of myself because he is proud of me.

So: what’s it like to have Soli Philander as a father? It is inspirational and exciting and lots of fun. It’s weird and wonderful, and never without its surprises and curveballs. It’s an experience I would never exchange, not for anything in the whole world. It’s the best. I don’t know if I will ever be able to successfully articulate what it’s like having my dad. I don’t think I have to. I think if your dad is your hero, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. My dad is like no other. And every time I think about Soli Philander, I want to burst with pride and thanks.

So I guess all I've got left to say is: