I am overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed with the love I have for my and our children and the love and gratitude I have always had for my own father, who taught me so much and who was my role model.
My grandfather was an abusive alcoholic. My father started sleeping in his mother's room at age 14 to protect her from him.
He
had two uncles that stepped up and gave him a father. One of them was
never married and never had kids. I met him frequently during the
1950s, and found him to be a nice, gentle man. My father worked on his
farm during his adolescence....sunup to sundown.
In the 1950s, my father would come
to school every year during my elementary school years and spend a day
with me. No other father, or mother, did that. I loved it! The other children fawned all over him.
My
dad became a rather famous man in the field of statistics. Devoted to
his wife despite a childhood watching his mother being abused and despite not having his own father be a role model for him. But the abuse he witnessed never defined
him for me. He was a gentle, loving man. What defined him were the small things...like cleaning the church before services, working on a
cabin together, and listening to him preach (always about love, not
damnation).
He was my role model. So I too went to my children's school once a year to spend the day with them.
I miss him every day.
I
love you Dad. I want you to know that Vicky, my wife, and my sister
were there in the room when Mom died. She didn't die alone. Looking
down from heaven, I know nothing would have made you happier about your
life.
Here is more on him, on a trip Vicky and I took 10 years ago to my childhood hometown, where I had such sweet memories of my parents.
https://livinginthebedofapickup.blogspot.com/2013/10/how-green-was-my-valley.html
15-20 years ago I went out to eat lunch with my mother and father, at our favorite Mexican restaurant. With no one to need our table, we sat for 2 hours, and all I did was tell them about all of the wonderful memories I had of them and my childhood.
Then, about 12 years ago, with Vicky, I did the same thing. They weren't bored hearing it all twice. :)
In his last years he loved assembling his Snow Village for Christmas. In the fall I mentioned it, and he said that he wasn't going to be doing that any longer because it was too hard and dangerous for him to go up to the attic where they were stored.
I said "screw that!" "I'm coming out for Thanksgiving so I'll get your Snow Village for you."
So I did, for one or two years until they had to go into an Assisted Living home.
They sent me a thank you note. So, I responded. Here is my response.
They kept the note. We found it when going through their things 7 years later after both had died.I cannot tell you how much peace it gives me to have thanked my parents, and for them to know about my gratitude toward them for the quality of my life.
One other memorable thing I did with my father during my childhood in the 1950s was that at least once a week we went to a western movie together. He loved westerns, so did I, and I still do. I remember many of them we went to.
One stands out in particular: 3:10 to Yuma (the original, 1957, not the dreadful remake).
On this particular evening, for I believe the only time, my sister came with us. We got down the street and I asked my dad to let me out. I felt bad about mom being home alone, so started walking home. He convinced me that she was fine with this.
That night, lying in bed, I heard my dad relay the story. It's the old advice about parenting: Let your children overhear you saying good things about them. I felt so proud of what I had done.
One time my dad and I went to see The Alamo (1960). After the film, as we were walking back to the car, I was raving about what a good movie it was. My father was very quiet. The next night he took me to Mein Kampf. I remember it well. He said: "I want you to know what war is REALLY like." And I learned. Years later I applied to be a Conscientious Objector in Vietnam and, in my interview with my draft board, I mentioned this experience.
Bruce Springsteen (yes! That Bruce Springsteen; how does one mention him in a father's day blog post?) stated once that the secret to good parenting is to simply "be in the same room."
My father made consistent great efforts for me to be "in the same room" with him.
...wish I was in the same room with him right now, on Father's Day. Talking with him and my mother who was also in the "same room" with me. For example, I spent 9 months with nobody except her when I was in her womb. We also played piano recitals together:
And a big part of our family life was oriented around our church. My mother was my children's choir director, for example. I remember taking this photo below. It was shortly before we moved to Colorado from Oklahoma, and I wanted a picture of my family in front of the church building where we attended for several years. It was a 7th Day Adventist Church building that we rented from them for Sunday services. My father was the pastor. He preached love, Jesus' love, not any of that damnation crap. His favorite part of the Bible was the parable of the Prodigal son. He used it so frequently in his sermons that it became a fun family joke. Vicky and I asked him to find a way to use that parable in our wedding ceremony because we all loved the sweet parable.
________My father's day:
It started a couple of weeks ago. Vicky wanted to get me a piano. I had an electronic keyboard, but it did not produce a sound that I liked....in fact not even close.
So she found one on something called OfferUp. They couldn't even get an offer on it. So, we bought it for nothing...they were just happy to get it out of the house.
Can you imagine? A 75-year-old nice looking piano, and nobody even wants it?
Well!!!!! We did.
But we had to move it 15 miles, from Payson to Pine. So, we called the man who has put several finishes on our logs to keep them a golden brown. So many cabins have turned black from the sun, but we are preserving ours---with his help. We know him well--a really nice guy, in addition to being a young man who has established a successful business.
He said "sure." And asked how heavy it was, etc. I told him it was a small one--a spinet.
Well, it was anything but light. It was heavy with wood. But he and his friend Thomas got it here, cheerfully.
Come to find out---he's a maestro. He can play the piano wonderfully, and all by ear. Some people just have talents that the rest of us don't have. He has come back since and played and played for us. Somebody who doesn't get turned off by older people. He will be back to play some more.
We are wanting to introduce him to our granddaughter Marina. He doesn't realize that this is the ultimate compliment.
Then I bought music. Several books of music. All of them are called "Fake books," which means they don't really have the music to songs in them. Instead, they have the melody (one finger) and the name of the chord. You are to supply the rest. That's the only type of music I have played in 50+ years.
Here I am playing a song for Emily for Father's day. It is one of two songs I used to sing to her as a bedtime lullaby. Sang it for years.
And, ironically, it is from the film The Alamo. How coincidental is THAT?
I love being a husband, a father, a grandfather, a brother, and an uncle. These people give my life meaning.
Raising my children, like it was for Vicky, made me soar, every minute of it. I am so grateful to them for bringing this love into my heart, which has done nothing but grow over the years. The days both Emily and Jules left for college I cried and cried...knowing my time with them in the home was over. It happens. That's just life, I guess.
Vicky is making Father's Day, which is tomorrow, special for me. This morning we danced on the front porch....mostly to our old favorites. I'll show one of them, one that reflects our life together. It's called "Today" by the New Christie Minstrels. A song from the early 60s. The lyrics are absolutely beautiful.
Tonight she is fixing me fondue. Yum.
Tomorrow we are taking a rest day. And she is making me her nachos, which are the best nachos on the face of the planet. I got to choose the meal. Then I'll have cherry pie and ice cream. Can't wait!
p.s. There is also a stack of gifts in the house that I think belong to me.....:)
I picked out tonight's movie. Vicky snuck in and took a photo of me looking at our DVDs (yes, we don't stream movies...instead we have a collection of a few thousand films that are digitalized or on DVDs. Come the revolution, we'll be watching movies and YOU WON'T BE!)
Do you think it's nice to take a photo of me on father's day that emphasizes my bald spot? Can't wait for next Mother's Day to get her back.
The best news for the entire weekend is that I was able to get up off of the floor all by myself, without her help!
I picked one I went to with my father., a western of course. Two Rode Together, with Jimmy Stewart, and directed by John Ford. It's an underrated John Ford film, showing settlers trying to be reunited with their wives and children who had been taken by the Comanche Indians years before. The "captives" didn't go back quietly---most wanted to stay with their tribe. And instead of the kinds of films that show settlers as being God-like and Indians being cruel and subhuman, this film shows the lack of humanity that can be on both sides. It's a similar theme to the best western film ever made: John Ford/John Wayne's The Searchers.
Here is a blog I wrote about The Searchers. The blog post is long. Toward the end I relay a story about a distant grandmother of mine, born in 1757 who was taken by the Delaware Indians for 7 years, until the settlers caught up to the tribe. When her mother went to claim her, she couldn't recognize any of the girls. Then my distant grandmother started singing a song that her mother had sung to her years earlier and, because of this, was reunited with her family. Without this singing of the song, I would not be here today.
In Two Rode Together, something eerily similar happened, except it was a music box.
Oh Dear Deer:
One part of my father's day weekend that we will always remember is the baby Elk that Vicky adopted.
Elk and Deer mommas often stash their babies during the day when they go foraging for food. A little baby Elk was in our front yard day before yesterday. We've had this before.
It was beastly hot, and the little guy, trained by evolution, wouldn't move even a few inches to get into some shade.
We got worried when the little guy was still there yesterday, all day.
We both knew that you can't fool mother nature, but Vicky got concerned. Two days in the beastly hot sun. No water.
So, being the mother that she is, Vicky took action.
She called every animal protection/control/9-11/etc. that she could think of. They all told her everything was as it should be. One said that if they came out, it would be to shoot the baby because they had no options for caring for it, so we didn't follow through on that one.
Finally, Vicky took it some water.
For some reason, known only to God, I get to be married to this woman.
Sunday, Father's Day:
Our baby is gone. We're so happy. Did the water help? Didn't seem to hurt. We'll never know. But I do know one thing even better than I have already known it: My Vicky's heart.
Started off with breakfast in bed with, my favorite, REAL bacon fried crisp:
Then Emily called and we had, as usual, a terrific conversation. Got to tell her I loved her. (She said the same thing!!)
Then I opened my first gift. It was very special. It was a music book of Eva Cassidy's songs. Eva Cassidy is someone we ran across several years ago. She has perhaps the best female singing voice ever. She never got famous--just sang in the Washington D.C. area. She died in 1998 from cancer at age 33. That's just wrong.
Well, her father put together this book as a tribute to her. Vicky thought that it would be an ideal time to give it to me because it was her father, and it was father's day. There is a lot of love in that book. I will be learning the songs.
Then I spent time doing something I love, which is making separate dance videos after we have had a dance. Takes me a few hours. And now, to add to that, going through my music books and playing songs on my new Father’s Day piano that I never thought I could play. What a day.
In the process of working on the dance videos Vicky brought me out my cherry pie that I'll have for desert tonight, so I could drool over it. (I did).
Got texts from Stella and Marina:
Then, we ate. Here it is. Mine's the big one. We ate about 1/3 of it which means........Another meal!!
Then I opened more gifts. I got several very old items from Carson, Iowa, where my father grew up and where I spent lots of time in the 1950s and 1960s. Postcards of the schools, a matchbook cover, etc. I have a collection of Carson items, and will add these to my collection.
It is so fascinating, and sad, to see evidence of how this small town of Carson was a thriving community early in the 20th century, but now it is really nothing. Almost no businesses are left, churches have closed, etc. That's just life, too, I guess.
I also got a plaque of Emily's award for her teaching that we will hang on our wall in Leisure World. It's called the proud papa award.
Also got cards. This one was from Jules. It's sweet. It's like something you would see in the 1950s, along Route 66, which he knew I'd like.
desert!
Vicky brought out two pieces of cherry pie with ice cream. Since it was father's day, I dug into both of them.
But, OK, just a joke......I didn't eat hers. Instead, I just had a second piece.
What a day. A day that makes you focus on how good life is.
Thanks to my Vicky who worked so hard to make it nice for me...as she always does.
p.s. after I was asleep this message from Candice came in. (we go to bed very early). Candice and I are very close.
addendum:
Two days later I got cards from Emily, and from Soren/Sebastian.
How great are these, huh? I love my family so much.