I once wrote a letter to Jordan Knight. Yes, I was a Blockhead (that’s what they called fans of New Kids On The Block, NKOTB)
My father happened to walk by the table where I was busy sealing up the mail (back in the day they had those aerogrammes that went with a flat rate for airmail. Because it’s cheap, it’s strictly words, but that was enough for me to declare my everlasting affection to my favorite NKOTB member. Well, after that, I cheated with JC of NSYNC, but Jordan is still pretty hot — have you seen photos of him now?! )
“Do you want to send that?” My daddy asked. I wanted to crawl under the table. But, “Yeah.” And I meekly handed over the love-infused letter over to my father. Thank God it’s not a postcard!
But I think my dad understood this teenage infatuation with celebrities (read: hot boyband members). I’m pretty sure he’s been through it. He rarely played them, but he had a little cupboard chock full of tapes by The Carpenters, The Beatles and whatnot. Sometimes I’d love to imagine if my father was able to visit America in ’69, he’d enjoy himself so much at Woodstock. Just saying.
So, there’re many more little stories like this one that I share with my father, that he probably doesn’t even remember, and definitely (I think) does not know that I hold so dearly in this little pocket in my heart. This post is meant for Father’s Day (but along the way I got busy and lazy, so now, I’m finally getting to it), so …
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.