Grandpa Horn
Everyone
thinks my dad is cool. This is not how I would describe him, but he’s
my father. He’s worn Converse™ so long they’re cool again. He’s from
Medford, a small town in Wisconsin. He took a football scholarship to
Notre Dame, but could have had scholarships in basketball or baseball.
My dad skis, rides horses, bowls, plays pool, throws darts etc.
(However, he can’t beat Tom at darts and this annoys him.) He’s a true
jock. While I was growing up, my dad was making documentaries overseas
for the United States Information Agency. We lived in Tunisia and
Libya. We were in Libya when Quadahfi took power. Kids would come over
and say, “Who’s that military man with your father” I’d answer, “That’s
the Emperor Haile Selassie “ (of Ethiopia). I was the only first grader
who screened documentaries for show and tell.
Sometimes it seems
as if my dad’s done everything. I say this, because as I’ve grown up
there’s always some new surprise he’s never mentioned. For instance, I
was working on the Taylor Made™ golf account. We’d been coming up with
concepts and I asked my dad if he’d ever heard of Augusta. I was in my
early twenties and didn’t play golf- except for one ill-fated P.E.
class in college. My dad’s response? “Of course, honey, I went there on
Air Force One with President Eisenhower when I worked in the White
House.” Ok. You’d think someone would mention that type of thing.
Similarly, when we were at California Adventure, Henry was fascinated
with the airplanes while we were in line for “Soarin’ Over California”
and said, “Grandpa Horn, wouldn’t it be great to fly a plane?” My dad
replied matter-of-factly, “Grandpa Horn has a pilot’s license. I’ve
flown lots of planes.”
My dad plays coronet and flugelhorn. He only
plays traditional jazz and will barely acknowledge music composed after
1914. (Which is why he is called “Grandpa Horn”) When I was in college
my father sold almost everything and went to play the streets of Paris
for two years. 
Some people read books; my dad reads shelves of books.
He loves single malt scotch, writing, big dogs, jazz, Notre Dame
Football, UCLA basketball, emailing his friends, and pretty girls of
all ages. Not necessarily in that order. My dad likes something or he
doesn’t. He is grumpy on the outside but is sentimental and will tear
up at any Horatio Alger-type story.
