Many people may remember my father as a Germantown police officer and detective. He has spent the majority of his life helping others and solving problems.

As a child my dad was never afraid to figure out how to do something or solve an issue.  He was damn good at tracking people if they were trying to hide.  He would find them every time.  But these days, I’ve become his problem solver—resetting passwords, booking appointments, and googling the answers to questions that stump him. (We make a good team.)

Growing up as an only child I went just about everywhere with him. We logged lots of miles in his yellow convertible, playing the same cassette tape on repeat. He brought me along to visit friends like the Knobloch’s in Mascoutah or to Bergmann’s clubhouse to fish and play cards.  Dad would also take me to Wally’s for a burger and fries too.  Sitting at the bar inside Wally’s as a kid made me feel so special. IYKYK

My Dad never missed a game. I struggled through t-ball, I sat the bench quite a bit in volleyball up until my 8th grade year. But he was there, every time. If you were to ask him today, I bet he could still rattle off my 1997 volleyball serving stats during the state championship game. Into high school he made sure to make it to all the important cheerleading competitions. He didn’t just show up—he paid attention. He cared about what I was doing. 

When I told him I wanted to start my own photography business at 21 years old, he didn’t hesitate. He put the house we lived in, in my name so I could take out a loan on my own. That kind of belief? That kind of generosity? It’s not lost on me. He gave me the means to build my future and he even helped me come up with the name Unforgettable Photography. 

Getting a bit more personal, we didn’t have a lot of wealth or materialistic things during my teenage years, but we had a whole lot of love—and I never once had to question that. He made sure I was never without something that I really needed. Thankfully, life was a lot easier 30-40 years ago and I didn’t have to ask for much.  As a child I never wanted to disappoint him—not because I was scared, but because I wanted to make him proud.  I still do.

Some of the memories that live rent-free in my heart:

• He is the only person who refers to me as ‘Annie’. 
• Saying “contact” before powering up the yellow convertible he restored when I was a little girl.
• Playing “hairdresser” on the living room floor as a little kid. Dad still has all his thick wavy hair too, but now it’s white!
• Christmas Eve 1988 – sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor of our brand-new, unfurnished house. The only thing we had was a real christmas tree light up in the living room because he promised me Santa would know where to find us.
• Playing old 45 records on the jukebox that was in our basement. I know plenty of oooold country music artists and 50’s music thanks to him.
• The way he calls me ‘hun’ when he enters the room or calls me on the phone. 
• The time he drove to a house in town and had to ‘talk’ to my childhood bully…while I was so embarrassed at the time, talking to this person later into adulthood and hearing his version of the ‘talk’, it made me realize what a total badass my dad was at the time.
• And then there’s a birthday card he game me a few years ago—the one where he wrote “You made my life.” Those words are etched on my heart.  

So when I think about unforgettable people—the kind who shape you, believe in you, and stand by you every step of the way—my dad will always be at the top of that list.

Happy Father’s Day, Pop.
You made my life, too.