May 17, 1924 was Saturday

My Big Daddy Don was born on this day.
Intimidated some, yet gentle as a teddy bear.
Oh, my Daddy loved his King Edward cigars and
Johnny Walker Red or Black (he wasn't prejudiced!) scotch and
Chit'lins and liver and onions and
Pineapple Malts from our local ice cream shoppe...

He loved his Iowa Hawkeyes, wore his Hawkeye jacket proud
(it hangs in my closet)
And loved The Andy Griffith Show and his Western Channel
Oh, Daddy loved to fish night or day or both-
He loved to send me at least a dozen birthday cards
And could iron and fold clothes better than anybody
Daddy loved to fry up some good ol Iowa pork chops
Or flip pancakes on a Sunday morning-
My Daddy loved to call me on Saturdays by 10 AM
Just to "see what I was doin'
He even loved to tell people about me and those OSMONDS
And he loved my cats, even when they ate step mother's birds...
Ahh, Dad loved when I said I was 'on my way' as I drove from
Dallas to home. Usually 750 miles with only cats for company
He sat in his chair, in the front room-to wait and worry
Until I pulled up in the drive way
He always breathed a sigh of relief
And then he'd laugh as cats scattered about-
I love to remember his hugs
Especially on this day, because
I know how much my Daddy loved me...

..and I loved him..
Happy Birthday, Daddy--
It's been 10 years since you've been gone--
At time it seems like a blink of an eye...

One December 15 was Sunday

..and this woman I'll call Ramblin' Sue was born. Not sure if she wants me to say the year so I'll it just as that--the December 15, I'm talking about was a Sunday. SUNDAY? A day of rest and Ramblin' Sue was born? I gotta laugh. Ramblin' Sue still remains anything but restful NOW. I can imagine when burst forth and I'm sure yowled loud enough so everyone knew Ramblin' Sue was finally here!

Ramblin' Sue may have seen stared each other down on the playground in grade school. Yet it was 4th grade I have my first vivid memory. We got in trouble. We sat by each other in the back of the room --wrong move there--. We passed notes to each other. I can imagine what the notes even said. This was 4th grade. I recall as we came inside from our recess, our teacher pulled us into the library. We were scolded. I don't remember what was said. I can't even remember if our moms were called. What I do remember was walking back into our classroom--all eyes on Ramblin' Sue and me as we watched our desks being separated. She on one side of the room and me on another. The SHAME!

Then fast forward to our Junior year in high school. I smile even now. It was our Junior Keggar (ya know, beer party) out in the middle of some field--literally. Ramblin' Sue picked me up in her--RAMBLER (her's was blue tho!)--

I had my beer mug in hand. Let's really forget this was my first night to partake in anything stronger than Hawaiian Punch. At the party I lasted about 30 minutes--literally--before I passed out.

What were we thinking? Nobody got hurt. You're 17, you're invincible. OK. Back to the story. I was pretty much out for the count the whole night in the back of a pick up truck. I missed the party--literally. People would shine lights on me and leave me be. Let's really forget I 'recalled' the party right before we left. After that, somehow I was poured into the back of Ramblin' Sue's rambler for the trek home.

To this day, I don't know what time we left. I don't even remember walking thru the front door. I do remember having the worse headache the next day and my Sweet Daddy Don asking me how I felt. Come to find out, Ramblin' Sue told me later they got me out of the car, and pretty much dumped me there because my dad stood at the front door--and that scared them.

She just knew my dad was gonna call her parents. He didn't. I don't remember my dad at the door at all. Through the years Ramblin' Sue laughed at that story. Through the years we talked and laughed alot and some of it--well--I just can't print here.

And for those memories, I'm glad a particular December 15 was a Sunday.

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.

Saturday December Day in Dallas

For my chums in Iowa and parts North, it may be 61 degrees today. Just to rub that in.

Also I have watermelon in my fridge. Not sure where it was grown. Not too tasty Summer Sweet, yet there's still some crunch and munch there. Makes me happy.

Then there's Tom Jones. Yes, 68 year old "What's New Pussycat?" Tom Jones. I got around to watching his performance on Leno from the other night. I read the rave review of his new CD '24 Hours' last week. My thought, "Really?" My memory of Tom Jones is my mom, aunts and other females in her demograpic, camped out around the TV when his variety show came on. Hooped and hollered they did.

Then fast forward: 1975 and the Great Allentown Fair, in Allentown, PA. Tom Jones performed there, as were the Osmonds, later on that week. Females, including myself, were lined from the elevator door to the car that waited for him, outside the Sheraton. We all wanted to get a glimpse of him. My 17 yr old lips got glimpsed 4 times. Then sometime in the 80's, Tom held concert in Des Moines, Iowa. He was good, yet...there was just something not that filled with zip. Honestly, I kind of wrote him off. His time had passed--that sort of thing.

Well, then 2008 and I watch Leno. My mouth drops. "THAT's Tom Jones???! I've determined Tom Jones drinks from the same fountain as Tina Turner. The song is "I'm Alive." Tom Jones proves he is. And, now if you will excuse me, I need to go and buy me a CD--one that's not on the clearance rack at Wal-mart. I got some hoopin' and hollerin' to do.