Recent Amarillo High graduate Kooper Holman, right, and his father, Kris, take a photo at the AHS Golf Banquet in the spring. [Provided photo]
By Kooper Holman
Sometimes writing can be hard when you write about something meaning so much to you.
Every detail you find important could be left out, or not emphasized as much as you want.
I received the assignment to write about what my dad means to me, and it’s the hardest column I’ve written, yet.
What does someone mean to you when they are there every step of the way?
How do you put into words the impact of someone who, whenever you needed anything, was right there with exactly what you asked for?
That’s the beauty of rhetorical questions… The answers are endless.
Kris Holman, my dad, is the reason why I am where I am today. My dad and I are dreamers, no goal is out of reach and no ambition is too.. well.. ambitious. He would preach not being afraid to take no for an answer, constantly pushing me to get out of my comfort zone no matter how absurd the situation was. His dream is for me to live mine, and that’s the best way I can put it.
The word versatility comes to mind when I talk about my dad. There’s not many people in this world that I can go from talking about how I three-putted eight holes in my round this morning to what subject I should go with for my English project to how Justin Fields is the savior of the Chicago Bears franchise. There’s no off-limits in our conversations and that’s why our relationship is so strong.
One thing dad always hated was missing any sort of event I was a part of. It didn’t matter if it was a golf tournament, radio show, or even my eighth grade play where I wasn’t even the lead role, he didn’t want to miss it. My dad is my biggest fan, no matter what I’m doing, he wants to be there and watch. That being said, he’s a terrible fan as well. I’ll miss a 2-foot putt for par and he’ll throw his hands up in disgust, or I’ll say a wrong name during a segment on a radio show and call me out over text to let me know. I think the best story is when I was in third grade and I participated in a spelling bee for extra credit. My mom and dad were sitting in the very back, and I had screwed up a word and next thing you know as I was dinged off stage you hear a burst of laughter. Yes. It was my mom and dad laughing at their own son because he couldn’t spell the word thermos. I may or may not have thrown a z in that spelling but that’s besides the point, the point of that story is to show that he’ll be there to root for me and want me to succeed, but sometimes when things took a turn south, we would smile, laugh, and move on to whatever crazy idea I did next.
So what does my dad mean to me? The answer is a simple one. He means Everything. And not like the “everything” from the store on your grocery list. Not like the “everything” all packed and ready to go. I’m talking about how he means everything to me as a person, a dad, but most importantly a best friend. He’s not afraid to voice his opinion or give me tough love. He’s not afraid to tell me how proud of me he is. My dad is the picture perfect Christmas gift, everything is wrapped up nicely and tied with a bow. He’s the whole package.
Happy Father’s Day dad, here’s to making more memories.
