MY DAD WILL ALWAYS BE A STAND-UP GUY

Everyone can appreciate a good dad joke, but it takes time to really appreciate a Dad-ism. That is, a saying or advice that your dad repeats over your lifetime to share his wisdom. My dad, William, is full of Dadisms, like his adoption of Johnny Hart’s Golden Rule, “He who has the gold makes the rules.”

Growing up with two brothers wasn’t without its rowdiness. Whenever I would complain about my brothers getting something I coveted by saying, “But that isn’t fair,” he would chuckle and retort, “Who told you life was fair?”

Whenever we would get jealous of each other for earning something special, he would say “A plus for him isn’t a minus for you.” To teach us to value honest work and to not complain about tedious jobs, he would say “That’s why it’s spelled J-O-B, not F-U-N.”

With time, these lessons came to have a deep impact on me, but as a kid they were an eye roll. As I have matured, I have grown to appreciate what I thought were cringeworthy habits and love him for his idiosyncrasies, just like he’s done with me.

Our relationship has improved a lot since I was a teenager, and, as a queer person, I am grateful for that. We have both come a long way in understanding each other for who we are. What he once saw as a threat to a happy life — my queerness — he now knows gives my life an even deeper meaning.

My dad grew up in Mexico City, and moved to Los Angeles with his parents and his sisters when he was 10 years old. He didn’t speak English when they immigrated, and they were very low-income. As a kid, he would tell us stories of being bullied, struggling in school and having an abusive

Renner is a communications professional and LGBTQ+ advocate. He lives in University Heights.

Our relationship has improved a lot since I was a teenager, and, as a queer person, I am grateful for that. We have both come a long way in understanding each other for who we are. What he once saw as a threat to a happy life — my queerness — he now knows gives my life an even deeper meaning.

father. Hardship and hard work were hallmarks of his upbringing. He knew what it was like to feel like an outsider, to be part of a marginalized group, to be made to feel less than because of who you are.

After struggling in school, he finally got his footing and his teachers encouraged him to go to college. He attended Cal State Los Angeles and became a high school government teacher. Politics were always a topic of conversation in our house. CNN was constantly playing, he was often reading a dense biography about a historical figure, and we were regularly discussing hotbutton issues.

When my brothers and I were growing up, my dad would test our civic knowledge by giving us the U.S. citizenship test, something he gave all his students. He helped me to memorize all the states and capitals when I was in fourth grade. We went to museums and presidential libraries. My dad made sure that we knew about our Mexican heritage and understood the value that immigrants bring to this country.

I like to think all those values came in handy when my older brother and I both came out as gay in high school. It took us time, hard conversations and understanding to arrive at a place of acceptance. Tapping into his own feelings of marginalization must have helped him come around, and my queer identity and sense of pride was something that he eventually embraced. I introduced him to boyfriends, shared updates about my activism and came home with painted nails. He embraced all of that and even began to embrace my love of Lady Gaga.

After seeing many of her televised performances, he told me a few years ago, “You know that Lady Googoo is pretty damn talented.” I was pleasantly surprised and loved this creative renaming. “You know, I’d see her in concert with you.”

Well, we got that chance last year when Lady Gaga’s jazz and piano show came back to Las Vegas. We got tickets, just the two of us.

Her performance was spectacular. It was my fourth time seeing her and his first, but we were equally impressed. When she sat down at the piano to sing “Born This Way,” she told the audience, “If you’re part of the LGBTQ community, stand up. This song is for you.” I took a second before standing up, and then he stood, too.

Putting his arm around me, he said, “Hey, I am proud of my two gay sons, so I’m part of the community, too.” “Thanks, Dad,” I said in our embrace.

Our differences didn’t matter so much after all, and we have more in common than I ever thought possible. That moment will always be one of my favorite moments with my dad, no joke.