I know I'm not alone in describing this Dodge commercial as my favorite of Super Bowl night. Substandard originality, however, is not going to stop me from devoting an entire post to it. This welcomed two minute reprieve from dancing pistachios and unfunny babies reminded me of my part-time job as an afternoon and weekend deejay at WKYR when I was 17 years old. In between butchering or laughing at what people called into Swap Shop to sell, I would often play Paul Harvey's "The Rest of the Story," a series I've come to appreciate so much more with age than I did as that high school kid having fun on the radio. It reminded me of navy, cropped FFA jackets so emblematic of warm June nights spent exploring Louisville with Mom, Dad, Leigh Ann, and the assortment of teenage students who had decided to attend the FFA convention at the Galt House. And most importantly, it reminded me of my favorite farmer, the man I respect more than any other I’ll ever know.
He was a farmer.
Luckily for me, he was also my Dad.
*For background on the Dodge commercial, see this Huffington Post or this NPR article.
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