My dad taught me a few things that have served me well in life, like how to cook a good steak on the grill, lay down a drag bunt, and pull his finger. He gave me a love for dogs, sophomoric humor, and college football. While I may not have known who the president was back in 1975, I did know Bear Bryant.

Sure, my dad could have shown me how to change the oil in a car or balance a checkbook as a child, but what fun is that? He gave me (and is still giving me) an appreciation for the sillier things in life, and for that I am a much happier person.

Maybe the best thing my dad ever did for me was to teach me to grow up as slowly as possible. He did it in a way that made it clear he did not intend for me to live with my mom or him until I was 35 like Matthew McConaughey's character in the movie Failure to Launch . He didn't want me to forget to pay my utility bills on a consistent basis or sell lemonade in the front yard as a profession, but he showed me that growing up doesn't mean you have to sit in a lawn chair reading the obits while the kids have all the fun.

Back in my neighborhood, my dad could be counted on to be the all-time quarterback or pitcher. He didn't mind throwing a baseball or a Frisbee, and on occasion, he could be seen cruising around on a go-cart or riding on a skateboard down the steepest hill in town.

Our yard wasn't the prettiest and some of our appliances would stay broken for months at a time, but the kids in the neighborhood appreciated my dad's curve ball and his bravery on a skateboard... so did I. The weeds and drippy freezer were easy to live with as long as he was rolling me grounders.

I'm the adult now, but I found myself reverting back to my dad's ways. My weekends would probably be more productive if I spent a little more time painting the shutters or weeding the flower beds and less time throwing a tennis ball to my son or playing four square with my two daughters, but given the choice between mulch beds or my kids' games, I'm going to take my kids' games nearly every time.

Of course, my dad never told me that once you've committed yourself to being the all-time quarterback, kids will relentlessly pursue you from the minute you step outside to the minute you go to bed. After six thousand games of dodge ball, weeding an azalea bed doesn't sound all that bad. I guess that's why my mom got blamed for "making" my dad cut the grass or repair the deck every now and then.

Growing older is inevitable. I've seen enough ear hair to know that, but my dad has shown me growing up is something we can control. Being an adult does mean you can take a swing at a whiffle ball once in a while, but it also means you can blame your wife to get out of it when you've had enough.