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!

Mom and me and the family

Happy Mothers' Day, one and all! To celebrate, here's a couple of pictures from back when...scans from slides, actually.


Colorado vacation, 1957. My sister, my mom, my dad and myself; as best as I can figure this is a park in or near either Silver Plume, or Georgetown Colorado. What I remember most about the day was I had a great time digging holes in the park with dad's rock pick.


Christmas 1966. Mom looks on as I open a gag gift from my sister.

And this only touches the surface of the family photo archives...I need to get scanning some more.

February 20, 2009

Today would have been my Mom's 84th birthday. It started out okay, and I was able to keep some good memories of happy times in mind. I got to looking at some old photos around 3:30, with the thought of posting one here. At that point I got a bit wistful, I guess that's the word.



I'm not sure when this was taken, but 10 years ago is probably as good a guess as any. I really like this photo.

I'm confident that Mom's in heaven with our Lord, and I expect to see her again eventually. I have a wonderful family, and I'm very thankful for that. As I looked for some of her photos, I also found some of my Dad, also Mom's parents (my Grandma and Poppy), and some of my great aunts from both sides of my family.

I miss my people.

Time passes, and I work through this sense of loss as best as I can. It seems to come to the surface on significant days. I suppose that's normal.

Well, enough of that. There's one photo of my Mom and her Dad playing cards, and I almost scanned it, then I realized I've already posted it here. (Scroll down to the third photo.)

Mom

I could write in detail about how special a person my mom was, and try to describe what a big loss her passing is to me personally. But you would expect a son who was close to his mother to write such things. For those who didn’t know mom, I don’t know what reading that would do for you. Those who did know Dortha understand. Many have sent or given their condolences in person, and to all who have I’ll say those kind words are appreciated more than you know, and I thank you. (And thank you Mike, for driving the distance to attend mom’s funeral, and for sharing your Aunt Priend memories here.)

I don’t see much point in writing about my emotions of the last six or seven weeks. My grieving process is hard to describe and changes from hour to hour, week to week. I will say that I’ve had to allow myself some grace to understand that I’m “not doing this wrong”; and though mom meant so much to me and I miss her greatly, it’s okay that I’ve already had a “good” day or two. I think she would like that. We Christians speak of "...the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding..." (Philippians 4:7, NKJV). I think I've noticed that a time or two lately.

Other than one piece of advice (tell your loved ones often that you love them - I’m glad I did; and if you feel you ought to have a heart-to-heart talk about anything, don’t delay – I’m so glad I didn’t put that off), I’d like to relate a few memories that have come to mind.

Mom loved to play the piano, and I have many good memories of sitting down in the living room to listen to a “concert”. I know my sister Connie also has those memories, and she has inherited more of the musical talent and knowledge from mom than I did.

For years – decades – I’ve wanted to record mom’s piano playing, but mom never liked that idea. I guess she thought that only professionals should have their music recorded, and she didn’t think hers quite rated that treatment. I’ve always thought her piano playing was great, certainly enough so for me to capture it on my tape recorder for my own enjoyment (and actually, I did sneak in one tape, hiding the recorder at a distance…and as I thought of doing that often, there might be others. A search may turn up more).

Anyway, I know I don’t have a quality recording of her music, which is kind of sad. There was one song in particular that mom almost always played first. I don’t know its name, but I think I asked her once if it was her favorite. If I recall right she said she liked to play that one first to warm up.

Every since mom passed away, that song has been in my head. Note for note, just the way our piano sounds, and just the way she played it. This is a comfort to me, knowing that I’ll not forget the music mom made and loved.

My dad has also been much in my thoughts lately; he left us back in 1990. One memory in particular came to mind, a unique moment in my family which never repeated. I don’t recall who suggested the idea, but I bet it was mom; anyway, dad and I agreed. This was during one Christmas season, probably in the late 1960’s. We decided the three of us would play a Christmas carol or two. This was back when dad and I still had some limited proficiency reading sheet music, so we got out our music stands. I put my clarinet together and dad got his saxophone out of its case, and mom was at the piano. I’m not sure which carol or carols we played, but it must have been something both dad and I had sheet music for.

With mom’s coaching and encouragement we practiced a bit, then put together a fairly good, though brief performance for ourselves; truly a fun time. I’ll probably think of more family moments to relate here later, but that one was unique in kind.

If I could talk face to face right now mom, I’d thank you for making me a much richer person. Like most “baby boomers”, I no doubt would have listened to top 40 rock and roll radio anyway. But you gave Connie and me an appreciation for a wider variety of music, and I have an admiration for the talent some people have who sing well or play an instrument well. Likewise, I was one of those kids who always liked to draw. But you took me to painting lessons, and encouraged me later as I got ready for the couple of art shows I entered side by side with you and my new artistic bride. How would that have been, without your sharing your love of the arts?

I’ll miss our visits on the telephone and in person your smiles, laughter and hugs. Our family will still have game night from time to time and we’ll get out the cards, only you won’t be there.

I'd give anything to hear the old stories again, and I’ll try to remember everything as best as I can.

I’m thankful for all the good times, and I’m glad we stayed close enough that you were a part of my children’s lives, and that you got to know my granddaughter, though briefly.

Mom, I love you. I’m glad I told you that before, and it’s still true. I pray that God will keep me in the faith as I walk through my life, and I look forward to our reunion in heaven.

Well, that may not have been eloquent, but it helped me to write it.