Father's Day 2010

As I write this, Father's Day 2010 ticks to done for another year.
I miss my Dad.
Our last Father's Day together was 2001.
Dad would laugh today when I'd tell him we all wore cowboy gear to church--now Cowboy Football gear. Nope, COWBOY as out on the prairie cowboy gear. Guys on horse back, as well as stagecoaches, were in the parking lot. The pulpit was decorated with hay and a little tiny pony, a donkey, a cute llama would peek his head out ever now and then, plus bunnies and baby piggies and alot of root-tootin' fun. And yes, my pastor Rickie Rush, of Inspiring Body of Christ Church brought the Word too. Me, myself I work a black cowboy hat which was solid investment of 99 cents at the GoodWill. Got compliments on it, even tho I think I look liked I robbed a stagecoach.
Yep, Dad would laugh and chew on that infamous King Edward cigar.
So as this Father Day ends
I'll curl in bed
And realize our days do still begin-
Then I smile.

May 17, 1924 was Saturday

My dad was born this day-eighty--five years ago. I smile, because if Dad still walked this earth, he would be a crustier and most loving ol' buzzard there ever was and still make the BEST bar-b-q ribs and chicken anywhere! After hearing these words, Dad would chew on his King Edward cigar and utter "Mercy!" Dad always spoke of his wish to open up a bar-b-q place in our Iowa hometown. Too bad he didn't, Dad woulda been a HIT!

On our birthdays, Dad and I would send each other about a dozen cards. He'd display them all over the house. Was just a fun thing to do. Some chums thought I was crazy to send him so many. Yea, whatever.

I'd send him serious cards, and little girl to her Daddy cards, then just funny cards. He loved them all. When Dad passed in October 2001, I packed up as many cards as I found and brought them back to Dallas. What's funny is, Dad still possessed cards I gave him when I literally was a little girl. My printing of "Daddy" on the envelopes made me smile.

As I've gotten older (and Dad would get a kick out of me joining a senior rec center) and the years after Dad's passing, I've thought more and more about his life. I bet when Dad was young, he wondered if there would come a time he didn't have to take care of somebody. See, Dad's dad died when my dad was just 12. By that time, all the older siblings were up and out of the house, leaving Dad home with his mom, plus his youngest brother and sister. The two youngest never married, and lived in the small four room house they were born in, until they died. .

Dad had just retired when my aunt became ill, literally for the first time I remembered. Dad went to the hospital every day and sat with her. Until she was released. My aunt died at home in the arms of her brother. It seems almost over night, my uncle was hospitalized. Dad began the vigil all over again, until my uncle's death--eight months after my aunt. Dad never complained.

And of course, there was me. When Mom died, Dad had a 13 year old girl to be all the more responsible for. So I just always wondered how Dad felt. We had our hard moments. A man in his prime, now a single dad. I realize Dad the best he knew how.

Honestly, I have a lot of smiles. Dad spoiled me, especially when it came to men. Yep. My dad cleaned, cooked--I mean really cooked (I miss his fried cornbread and greens. Talk bout some good eatin!) iron my jeans and fold bed sheets so well, you thought they came out of the package! And when I was little, Dad was the best snowman maker in the world and the best slide go'er down'er helper! Oh, and did I mention, Dad liked cats? Because of ALL that, especially the cat part, I thought every man liked cats.

Wrong. Every man I've been nuts about is either allergic or just out and out hates em. Which of course, is another post!

If Dad were here today, I'd probably be back in Iowa to present him a cake with 85 candles. I'd make sure every one was lit too. Ha! I can hear him to tell me to hurry with the lighting before the house burns down. Then I'd help Dad blow em all out, because I'd tease him how he was some old man now. Dad would chew on that King Edward cigar one more time before he put it in an ashtray. Then we'd count to three and blow all 85 candles out and laugh. For those few moments time would take us back to his lift so I could reach high for the icicle and even higher through life. Until the days I held Dad's hand, while he lie blind in the hospital. I knew then our earth life together ticked away. As I held Dad's hand, I asked God for even a teaspoon of the strength my dad always had. I think God gave me a tablespoon.

Happy Birthday Daddy! I am still your prettiest girl that loves you and smiles because your spirit dances in this house. I still want to make you proud that I'm Don's Girl.

I am blessed.

Christmas in October

On October 23, 1954 my parents married. Dad always said when he met Mom, he knew his partying days were done. I arrived in April 1958. Things were non-stop from that day. The pictures here are from a Christmas—which outside of my birthday, was my favorite day of the year. But my parents would say, my birth was the Christmas Day for them.

They’d suffered four miscarriages and I was their last chance at a baby. They wanted me. And I suppose I wanted them as much. I'm sure God informed me of the troubles that lie ahead on Earth. Perhaps, I’d want another set of parents or kick around Heaven a bit more.

Evidently I had my mind made up--even then- and said no. I was born in Iowa, a state not known for its racial diversity, plus I had only one ear. A condition call microtia. So there would be broo-ha-ha how well I would hear. The endless hearing tests grew so annoying. Then my mother only lived to when I was just 13. How would a teenager, without a mother to guide her the rest of the way fare? With all that, I still arrived on the very day the family doctor predicted. Guess I wanted to get the party started because I popped out at 4:30 AM. When I went out on my own, Dad's tradition was to call me at 4:30am on my day. Good way to get my birthday started.

There were the good days, like Dad taking me on the walk to learn the way to kindergarten. He made school sound so grand! We’d peek in the windows and Dad told me how much fun I'd have. Although, Dad didn’t inform me I’d have YEARS to take it all in. The good times Mom and I had as we’d get food from the A and W, or our town’s version of a Dairy Queen. Just drive through the countryside as we sang, laughed and did some girl talk. Or the Saturday mornings, they would pour me in the back seat, with a armful of Nancy Drew mysteries. The whole day would be spent picnicking at different ponds and lakes while they fished and I read, slept and sometimes fished. That was major family time. On the bad, Mom believed in a few, good spanks. While Dad chewed his King Edward cigar, glared and said my entire four word name. Unfortunately, there were no siblings to blame stuff on. Outside of that, Mom would forever tell me I was her angel. Then Dad informed me to always be his prettiest girl. I thought the words corny--then.

On October 23, 2001, what would have been my parents' 47th wedding anniversary, was the day I buried Dad. Instead of tears shed at the grave site, I smiled because I figured Dad had it all planned. Mom passed away when she was 43, and Dad joined her when I was 43. And on this day, it was how it should be--Mom and Dad were together again.

Today I ready myself for a walk and I smile. For they will walk with me. I’ll catch a whiff of Dad’s cigar and hear Mom whisper in my ear that I’m still their angel.

They are mine.

I am blessed.

Sunday Slow Down

Had a great walk tonight! A slight north wind made the 80 some degrees Dallas evening just right. Strolled around the park, s just up the street from my house. Lots of action there with families. Parents showing their little ones the ducks in the ponds. Helping with unsure steps. Dogs with their humans. Me loving every minute of my walk. Felt good. On my final lap I sat and watched the world around me.

A daddy held his daughter tight as she pointed to the ducks. Reminded me of my dad when we took our Sunday walks to the creek in our hometown. Walked a gravel road, which has since been paved. A house, on the way, had lots of ducks and geese in their yard. Dad and I always stopped so I could feed them bread. Dad always had a King Edward cigar in his mouth.

I do miss those walks with my dad. Those were the best daddy-daughter times. Our walks and talks. In the twilight of his life, diabetes grabbed hold of him and didn't let go until it stole his life. What walks we did share then, were just around the block--due to failing eye sight and amputation of his left foot. But we still talked. Talked about my cats, life and the football Iowa Hawkeyes. Our playroom/TV room was filled with Hawkeye stuff. When there was a chill in the outside air, we sported our matching Hawkeye jackets.

Yep, miss those walks-alot. So like today, I walk for us both.

I am blessed.

Father's Day...

Today is Father’s Day.

Dad would have opened the dozen or so cards I got him.

He would have fixed us pancakes---even though it was his day.

We would chat over our bountiful breakfast.

Reminisce about the time I slit open Christmas packages, and then tried to tape them back together.

Or the time we made a bird house together.

Or the time he took me on my first airplane ride.

Or we would talk about my mom. How she passed away so young, then

We would laugh about all the Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper we ate after she left.

Today would have been our day. Daddy Daughter Time.

We might have gone fishing. Just the two of us.

Dad has now been gone seven years. Time does not stop.

Sometimes I swear I still smell his King Edward cigar.

I know Dad is with me. I rejoice that he and my mom are together.

My God gave me parents who loved me more than life itself.

I know I am loved.

I know I am blessed.

Everyday is Father’s Day.

Laundry Day!

My next door neighbor’s laundry is on their clothesline. Reminds me of when I was a little girl and watched both of my parents hang our laundry outside. My dad would have his ever present King Edward cigar dangle from his mouth when he did anything—including hanging laundry. I would get a washcloth or two and hang them from the branches of our apple tree—the branches I could reach.

What decade did I last hang laundry outside?

Turns out, the house I bought has its own clothesline too. When I began my house search, I was surprised some older homes had them. My memory reminded how clothes seemed softer and held a fresher scent from being outside. OK, back to my clothesline—during today’s errand running, I meant to buy clothespins—I forgot. I strolled out to my clothesline, and thought, “Well, next time.” I found myself filled with envy about my neighbor with their dried in the Spring breath of fresh air laundry! I stood at my clothesline and squinted—I couldn’t believe what I saw—CLOTHSPINS were all ready ON the line!

I dashed back into my house. The laundry I had to do any way would be hung outside to dry! Towels and washcloths were thrown in the washer. Absolutely giddy! There would be problem in remembering this day being the first day I hung clothes since the 20th Century. How? Because today is my dad’s birthday.

Now if you will excuse me, my washer stopped. Laundry needs hang on my very own clothesline.

I can reach it now.