My father-in-law is turning 65 in a few weeks, and my new sister-in-law volunteered to put together a scrapbook of thoughts and photos from family and friends for him. She volunteered for this knowing it had to be done in a three week time span. She also knows that the family (minus myself of course) tends to be, well, late on things. Did I mention she's new? Ah, that fresh "I have a new family! I just got married!" enthusiasm.
I sent a bunch of photos, as is expected of me as the official Famarazzi. My FIL is adorable and photographs well. He's got furry caterpillar eyebrows that my husband is happily starting to harvest as well (I love plucking eyebrows--they don't have to be mine), and rugged, never too coiffed (in a good way) pale strawberry blonde wisps of hair that look as edible as orange cotton candy. He looks (and acts) like a manly ball of sunshine.
I also want to write something about this guy--my FIL--because everyone deserves a Eulogy while they're still alive (and since he had brain surgery this past year this seems a good time to celebrate his LIFE, not his death) and because, contrary to popular in-law feelings that abound in other families, I love him.
Okay, so he can't carry on a conversation that sticks to a single topic for more than a minute. We'll be talking about which customers his computer business has picked up lately when suddenly he'll interrupt himself and say: "Really. What about. An Italian villa for a family vacation in March. It's not set in stone yet but let's do it."
We've never been to Italy as a family, but I'd say we have discussed it and other exotic destinations at least every time we've spoken during the eleven years I've know him. And I love that. He's a dreamer, like me. Unlike his son. Hmph.
If he and I were a team we'd have been around the world by now, and have 200 hours of film to show the rest of the family. That's another thing: he likes to get behind the camera. A lot. He's the real Paparazzi. I can't tell you how many times I've heard his daughters and wife say "Dad. Put DOWN the camera." He was able to film my son's Brit Milah (Bris) with a steady hand even while being the honored individual (Sandak) who gets to hold the baby during the actual slicing. Now that's talent, and boy won't my son be glad to have that all on film (given that Grandpa was able to keep his legs still and the whole operation went off without a hitch).
Speaking of being Jewish, the number one thing I'll always love about my FIL is that despite being a devout Jew who is very active in his temple, he never gave me demerits (or else he has a late in life career ahead of himself as an actor) for being a non-Jew. In fact he appeared to be lured in by my California girl shiksappeal. That's right, he accepted me as I was. Now, I've since converted to (very very reform) Judaism and plan to send my sons to Hebrew school (although currently they attend a Christian preschool called "Littlest Angels" (no they are not confused--yet)), but I'm sure, or at least I'm 75.5% sure that even if I had not done these things, he would have loved me like a daughter.
The guy makes being married to his son a positive experience where gaining a second family is concerned. I actually love to go visit my in-laws and am frequently the driving force behind planning our visits. This year, for the big 65th birthday I've suggested (and been taken up on the offer) that I give up the previously planned week at my beach house alone with my husband and two sons, secluded from real life and noise and cradled by warm sand and fruity cocktails, and instead have my husband's whole family (parents and siblings and spouses) come hole up with us and celebrate. Yup, I actually suggested and am looking forward to a slumber party vacation with my FIL and crew. And that, in my book, is the ultimate proof that I love this guy. I hope my sons get in-laws as wonderful and welcoming as mine.
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