81

I don't remember how old I was but, I was out delivering papers with my brother on my tricycle, he said I was going too fast, I didn't listen. I sped down the hill and crashed on the curb. He had to call my dad home. My father came in his white dress shirt and tie to take me to the Dr. and I remember him holding my head down as I was screaming, while they put seven stitches in my chin. I can still feel his hands on my head to this day...and the dried blood on his white shirt against my cheek.

At the visitation before my father's funeral, I remember looking at his hands again. It had been 15 or more years since I had seen his hands stretched out and crossed over his middle. The Multiple Sclerosis had curled his fingers to the point where his fingernails would cut into his palms (the home he was in put blocks in his hands to stop this). I looked at my brother and said "I'd forgotten Dad's hands. I forgot his fingers were so long." He asked me if I remembered Dad's crooked pinky...of course I did. And I cried.

My dad was an Electrical Engineer for Consumer's Power Company. He started in Cadillac (where he met and married Edna and later, Cindy, Karen, and Gloria were born), transferred to Jackson (Valerie) and finally to Manistee (David and I). The picture above was taken while he was still working. He retired in 1976. I was 3. He was 49. I remember going in to work with him a few times after he retired - I think he still did consulting. They always gave me a little carton of chocolate milk and let me sit at the head of the big conference table to drink it.

He loved to sing and he was good at it. He sang in the church choir and to me, every afternoon in the green recliner. I'd sit on his lap and he'd sing to me. Sometimes hymns, mostly just songs he knew. His favorite was Home, Home on the Range. I preferred Uncle Ned. I loved to sit with him like that and I'd pick at his crooked pinky trying to make it straight. I seem to remember he got his hand caught in a wringer washer when he was a boy. (sisters - correct me if I'm wrong)

I remember when I started preschool one of my shoes had come untied. The school was having some trouble with the heat that day and I'd overheard the church secretary say she'd called Web and he was on his way up to take a look at it. I wouldn't let anyone TOUCH my shoe! My daddy was coming and he would fix it! He did. He came down to my room, came into my class, and he tied my shoe.

I have a lot of good memories of my dad. So many more than I thought I had. I wish he was here to celebrate his birthday with us but when I see his deep dimples on his grandson's smiling cheeks, I know he is here. I know he's proud. I feel it - in my heart.

Happy Birthday Dad!