Most of my friend’s fathers dressed in business attire and held jobs at Boeing or in some downtown high rise. They carried umbrellas and briefcases and strapped on galoshes over their wingtips. My dad was a little different. Each morning he put on a bright colored sport jacket and plaid pants. Then he made trips to the car with all the things he would need for the show. First load consisted of his sixty-pound accordion, wardrobe changes, props, and whatever script he might have worked up the night before. Then came his sidekick, Nomo (short for No Motion), a Bassett hound who spent most of her days sleeping in front of the heat vent. True to her name, she rarely was in motion, especially if it meant distancing herself from the warming zone. She would ride down to KING TV in the passenger seat of the car wearing four high top KED tennis shoes and maybe a boa around her neck.

One day my dad caught me staring at a huge watercolor of NoMo hanging in his office. I remember marveling how the artist captured her bloodshot eyes, even adding a little Alpo to those matted floppy ears. Dad must have thought I was going to unleash my teenage irreverence so he stopped me short.

“That dog gave you braces!” He said.

I realized at that moment that he was telling the truth…and I needed to lighten up. Without orthodontics, my teeth would still look like God fired them down with a bad rotator cuff.

Growing up with a dog as a breadwinner really drives home the idea that America IS the land of opportunity! If a low-riding Hush Puppy can bring home the bacon, I would have to up my game.”