Happy Father's Day 2012

So, what to do here? I've written years ago some memories of my Dad, a simple link to that old post here shall suffice, if you want to read, or re-read what I wrote. That was focused and personal, fond and happy memories.

Father's day can be many other things though. I'm a father of four great kids, and the three local ones helped me celebrate this evening with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge sauce in waffle bowls. I also had a wonderful conversation with my eldest daughter in California; I always enjoy it when she calls.

There's also the realization of other men, perhaps friends at church, or uncles, cousins, brothers-in-law, and other relatives, and seeing their relationships with their families (I thought of going family-tree-style, and posting photos of several of my male relatives with other family members. I'm thinking I'll still do that, but getting those photos organized will take longer and go later than I want tonight). So there may be a part two to this.

On my way here to post, I happened to notice on my Blogger Dashboard that my Cousin Mike had posted some neat memories and photos of his Dad, my Uncle P. J., on his blog "Central Standard". Mike also posed a question that was raised by one of his friends...

 "If you could spend one day again with your Dad, which day would it be"?

That's a great question, and my first thought was of an afternoon when I was sitting in the radio room (now the computer room), in fact, within a foot of where I'm sitting now. Dad was telling stories of when he was a boy and watched an air show in, I think, Detroit. I don't quite remember all the details, so I might well want to revisit that time and get Dad's stories on my tape recorder. And maybe ask a few more questions.

Or, I might want to go back to a quiet family moment in Poppy's living room, which I've written about here. Not a word was spoken for a while but I was young, we were all in reasonably good health, it was so peaceful, and I had not a care in the world.

Then again...there was the time we had traveled down to the farm to visit Poppy (my Mom's Dad, if you're new here and wish to keep score). On this trip we had brought along some floor tiles as the old linoleum was getting really worn out. I was in my Uncle Bud's room reading comic books for quite a while, so the project was already under way when I walked into the hallway. Dad had started to glue down the new tiles in the living room, which surprised me. I said, "Oh, so you don't scrape up the old linoleum first"? With a straight face Dad replied, "No, we'll just add a new layer every time, and eventually we'll have to scuttle around like this"! He then demonstrated the "scuttle" by hunching his back over and taking a few steps at about half running speed. That was, far and away, the funniest thing I ever saw and heard him do, it totally cracked me up!

Dad's good humor was of the dry sort, delivered unexpectedly. I didn't hear him laugh often. But...there was the one time when I brought my (then) girlfriend home and announced to Mom and Dad that we were engaged. Dad's face just lit up, and that was a laugh of joy. That might be the day I'd re-visit, for a number of good reasons.

Boy, it would sure be hard to pick just one.

The Evening Rambler for the beginning of Summer 2011

Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? The jury’s still out on that, tonight’s contestant dropped out rather than tackle a fifth grade social studies question. So we don’t know, and we didn’t get to see the question to test ourselves. He ended up with $7,500 though, so that’s not too shabby.

That is of course, if that’s an after tax figure, which I kind of doubt now that I think about it. It would be nice if game shows did that, figure the tax owed and send it to Uncle, since they’re giving away that money anyway. But what I heard years ago is that the contestants owe the tax on the winnings.

Seems like a shame though. You get all excited that you’ve just won $7,500, only to discover that you end up with only thirteen dollars and eighty-five cents.

Much has happened since my last Porch post. The big news in Missouri was the Joplin tornado, back on May 22 nd. Much has been said and I don’t know what I can add…the whole event and aftermath was so tragic. My sister and her family lived in Joplin in the late 1980s, so I’m somewhat familiar with the city. That area will never look the same, and the recovery will be a long one. Rumor has it that our church will send some people down there, but I’m not sure of the details, whether soon for cleanup assistance, or later for help in rebuilding. I’m not sure how much I’d be able to do if I went down there, but I have the desire to help in some way, if I can.

The Kansas City Star last Sunday had an amazing article, a collection of first person reports of survivors at St. John’s Hospital and nearby.

Since then, we’ve had several rounds of rain and thunderstorms here, but they’ve only blown the tornado sirens once. No damage here, though.

My garden is doing well with the rain and the warm weather. I have several blossoms on the tomato plants, and the cucumber plants are growing well. We got the fence up, but it still needs adjustment to make it varmint proof. I’ll have to get to that before any fruit sets on the vines. The potato plants are bigger and healthier than any I’ve ever had. I guess we finally got enough compost worked into the soil in that corner.

Father’s Day was a simple celebration. What I really wanted was to get my family around the table all at once and play a board game; we haven’t done that in too long. So we chose Pictionary, and my second daughter and my son teamed up and ran away with the game. They ought to enter a tournament.

My first daughter called from California, which was a delight. I told her that was the high point of the day so far, and said I wasn’t sure that would stand because her mom had made me a peach cobbler. I did get to “talk” to my one year old granddaughter. It wasn’t real words yet, just sounds on her part. Practice talk.

As it turned out, the cobbler was great, but I’ll rate the phone call the high point of the day.

Of course I thought of my Dad. The question came to mind, how would I respond if someone asked “What words of wisdom did your dad pass on to you?” I’m not sure how I’d reply, though I suppose if I give it some time and consideration, I'd come up with something. Dad was a very intelligent man, but also a quiet person most of the time. I’m sure he kept many things to himself, and yes, I should have asked more questions when I had the chance.

While my Mom gave me an appreciation for music and art, Dad passed to me his interest in things technical. His interest in aircraft became my interest in rocketry. And I have good memories of working side by side at his electronics workbench, putting together some Heathkit project or other.

I’ve come to believe my odd sense of humor is about an equal mix of my Mom’s general good humor and creativity (sometimes moving across the line into silliness), and Dad’s quiet, unexpected, dry humor. Interesting that I’ve included comparisons with Mom into these comments about Dad. When I think of one, I think of the other…the way it should be, I suppose. Anyway, here’s what I’ve written before on Father’s Day, if you’re interested.

One of our digital TV subchannels, 9.2, changed formats today. It was one of two weather channels, but now it’s a MeTV affiliate. So far, I’m impressed. I’ve watched parts of The Streets Of San Francisco, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, the original Hawaii Five-Oh, M*A*S*H, and the Dick Van Dyke Show.

Rumor has it they also have The Beverly Hillbillies, but I don’t know in what time slot. I’ve also read on the internet that this fall they’ll be adding Star Trek (I assume it’s The Original Series).

And…Batman.

Who needs cable?

Oh, and happy Summer!

Things Bob's Dad taught . . .

Bob's memories of his Dad are very touching and I am happy that he posted them because of the insight into his character that I gained.

As far as I could tell, Uncle Al was always quiet, seemed serious and may have been knocking on the door of stern. But those are the memories of a boy who was seldom around him. I like his humor and concur with his devotion to chocolate cake.

Thanks, Bob.

Things my dad taught me...some of them, anyway

One of my early memories was decorating for Christmas; it could have been 1958 give or take a year. The tree was up and Dad had put on the first string of lights…when he plugged them in and they lit up, it seemed magical to me. Another string was on the floor and I noticed it had a plug on one end and an outlet on the other; so I plugged the string into itself. Dad could tell I was disappointed when nothing happened. He explained the lights had to be plugged into the wall outlet to work (and I’m sure a safety warning followed; I might have been told to let him do that).

Among other interests, dad was a “ham” radio operator, and over the years he taught me much about electronics and radio. I have good memories of learning to solder wires together and working with him putting together Heathkit radios and power supplies at his workbench in the basement.

That reminds me. Dad had a dry sense of humor; he was a quiet guy and seemed a bit serious. Once in a while though he’d throw in some totally unexpected comment and crack us up. He could be a tease at times, and he could also walk into a room without making a sound. If he ever saw me plugging a lamp or something into an outlet, he’d suddenly make a loud “ZZZT!” sound to startle me, then he’d chuckle to himself and leave the room.

And when we lived in “the old house”, there was a utility room where the washer / dryer was. Over half way up the wall was a nail that stuck out an inch or so, at an angle. I’m not sure now what they would hang on that, but one day when I was maybe five he brought me into that room and pointed to the nail.

Dad: “Do you see that nail?”
Me: “Yes.”
Dad: “Don’t touch it. It’s the only thing holding the house together, and if it ever comes out, the whole house will fall down.”

From then on until we moved, every so often I’d think of that and slowly, carefully look through the utility room doorway to see if the nail was still there. In fact, I don’t recall actually going into that room again.

Dad had some fun comments about food. Back then the only condiment I liked was catsup, but dad would use mustard, because…

“Mustard kills the germs”.

And when people started talking so much about vitamins – in the 1970’s, I think – one day for fun he said “Chocolate cake has vitamin C”. C for chocolate, I guess.

He also said once that if he knew for certain that the world would end tomorrow, he would eat an entire chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

Dad taught me to enjoy shooting off fireworks, by being careful, following the instructions, and by not doing anything stupid.

Dad taught me to shoot paper targets with a rifle, by being careful, following the instructions, and by not doing anything stupid.

Dad taught me to drive safely, by being careful, by following the rules, and by not doing anything stupid.

I’m detecting a pattern here.

(And before I get too far from the subject of driving, after I got my license and anytime I would open the door to go out, dad would give me the same advice...

"Try desperately hard not to get run over".)

Now, I was way too young at the time to have any memory of this, but I’ve been told that when I was a toddler I’d reach for everything with my left hand. Knowing that this is a “right-handed world” (and remembering the story that his dad had taken a Whole lot of abuse in school for being a lefty), he would take things from my left hand and hand them back to my right hand.

Dad partially succeeded; I’m mixed-handed. I write and use eating utensils and do many things with my right hand. There are other things I only do left-handed; dealing cards and using tape dispensers, for two examples.

Mom was the singer in our family. While dad enjoyed music, he’d beg off of singing by saying “I only know two tunes. One of them is Yankee Doodle, and the other one isn’t”. I thought for years that he’d made that up, until I found out he was quoting Ulysses S. Grant.

I’ve mentioned before that my dad was a pilot, and he had a lot of interesting stories to tell. For a lot of years he flew the Constellation for TWA. We got on the subject of bad weather one day, and he told of being in the plane at one end of a runway in Kentucky, and watching a tornado cross the other end of the runway.

Another time, he got ball lightning in his plane. It came in the cabin somehow, and rolled down (floated along?) the center aisle back the entire length of the plane. He said it was round, about the size of his fist, and glowed like a night light. He turned and watched people stare at the ball lightning as it rolled past. He said one man started to reach out towards it, then it was obvious the man changed his mind when he pulled his hand back. The ball lightning got to the end of the aisle and disappeared.

(The rest of the story…years later I picked up and read some stories in a Reader’s Digest book, which had a title something like “Mysterious Stories of the Unexplained”. One of them involved an airline flight, and though dad’s name wasn’t mentioned, the story was so much the same as dad told it, that I think it was the same event. Apparently one of the passengers was motivated to write and submit his story.)

Dad developed his interest in aviation as a boy, when he’d go to air shows that his dad and his uncle Avery were involved in (they barnstormed for a while). Dad told me that at one of these shows there was a man who had a daredevil act. I’m not certain now of the man’s last name, but I think it was Davis, or something close to that (and yes, one of the big regrets of my life was that I didn’t get and turn on my tape recorder so I could hear these stories over and over).

Anyway, “Batman Davis” wore a bat costume and a parachute, and would climb into a hot air balloon. This wasn’t like the balloons today with the propane tanks and burner on board. The balloon was filled with hot air on the ground while it was tethered; once airborne when the air cooled or was let out, it was time to come down. “Batman Davis” would take off in the balloon and go up pretty high, but not out of sight of the crowd. He then would jump out, clear the balloon, and pull the cord to parachute to a safe landing. Dad said the balloon had counterweights sewn into the top of the envelope so that each time when the “Batman” would jump, the balloon would tip over, and the hot air would spill out so the balloon would land nearby. The way dad described it, this must have been quite a show.

I’ve got to tell you I really enjoyed writing this for Father’s Day. Dad was a very smart man and taught me many practical things. Dad, I thank you for the learning, for learning to appreciate your dry humor, for all the good times, and for all the stories. I only wish I had asked to hear more of them.