Happy Father's Day! What is your favorite memory of your father?

For many, Father's Day is one of the least significant "holidays" of the year. It pales in comparison to Mother's Day (and I am totally fine with that).

When I sat down, I was going to write a funny piece on how little fan-fare there is for Father's Day compared to its counterpart... but then I would be perpetuating the "problem". (

I am lucky enough to have a father in my life worthy of praising, I would have never imagined I'd be typing that about this particular man. Fortunately, 46 year olds are much wiser than 16 year olds (and hopefully say fewer stupid things to police officers).

So this one is for you Omer

When I was three years old, my mother and father got divorced. I spent the next six years visiting my father every Wednesday afternoon... with a few weekends sprinkled in here or there. When I was nine, he died.

Happy Father's Day everyone! Thanks for reading!

Kidding.

This is not a sad story. When I was seven my mother married a man named Omer

Omer looked a lot like Neil Sedaka when he met my mom. I know none of you young people know who he is. Google him.

Omer happens to be the quietest person I have ever met in my life. He is basically silent. Recently I told my daughter that Grandpa had said that he wanted to hear her and her brother play their musical instruments. She looked at me like I had just grown a second head. She cocked her single head and said, "That's impossible. Grandpa never talks." She wasn't kidding... and she was right.

To further illustrate this point, my daughter likes to do impersonations of people in the family. When I ask her to imitate my Mom, her eyes get wide, she changes her voice to sound very excited and slightly more mature and says, "Oh my lovely grandchildren. Just look at them. Everything they do is just so wonderful. Here have a toy!"

When I ask her to imitate Omer, she gets a blank look on her face and stares ahead.

Both are spot on impersonations.

I met Omer when I was 6. I lived with him from the time I was 7 until I turned 21 (with some time away at colleges sprinkled in there). During those nearly 14 years, I probably had five conversations with Omer ... and that is on the high end. We didn't go to baseball games. We didn't play catch. We didn't go to the movies or dinner or watch TV together. It is important to note that for much of that time, Omer worked the night shift as a security guard. That made it even more difficult to connect.

So how are you doing Omer? Nice talk. Try again in 15 years?

On top of that, Omer is not good with kids. He simply doesn't know what to say to them. He is so naturally quiet and introverted that he struggles with adults. So trying to figure out how to communicate with kids was torture for him.

And yet, when I was 7 and my sister was 10, this man who was so uncomfortable around kids, chose to add two of them to his life.

Why? He loved my mom... and my sister and I. I wrote that Omer had trouble interacting with us as kids. He never had trouble loving us as kids. He just had his own way of showing it.

Omer showed love by pulling my mom and her two kids out of poverty and giving them a chance at a happy life. He welcomed me into a house. Not a cockroach filled, rat infested apartment... a real house like I had seen on the Brady Bunch.

He made sure we were able to go to the doctor and the dentist. And I mean a real dentist. Not the 75 year old guy who treated us for free... while his hands shook the entire time.

We ate healthy food every evening and slept in our own warm bedrooms every night. Every year we got brand new school clothes and shoes. We did not need my aunts' and uncles' hand-me-downs anymore. When we were sick we had the proper medicine. When it came time for high school, he paid to ensure that we didn't get stuck at a failing public school. He took us to Six Flags and Disney World.

He gave us a childhood.