Father's Day

My dad. There have been few people who have lived life like he has. He was the oldest boy in a large family with an abusive, alcoholic father and a mother who worked as a nurse outside the home. Adversity is something he was born into. Poverty and dysfunction. He learned young to survive. He has suffered loss so many times. His brother, Jerry died when they were children and after that, it seemed like many people he felt close to died. Tragically and unexpectedly--plane crash, rifle accident...etc.
He made it through his childhood and went to college.  He was an adagio dancer for a while. ( Slow, athletic dance, with many poses like sculpture. Holding the girl over his head with one arm, etc.)He studied Art and Biology. I love his paintings and sculptures. And his knowledge of Biology made any outdoor excursion or camping trip so interesting. He can name all the trees and plants and animals and tell you all about how things tick.

My dad could write a book of all his adventures--good and bad. He was almost killed as a young man working construction when a crane hit a power line and arced a massive amount of electricity into his body, catching him on fire. He lived without amputation. His legs are covered with skin grafts. And as far as not being able to have kids...he had eight.

(I'm 15 here. Rad bangs.)

 My dad has always been a hard worker. And has worked a variety of jobs throughout his life. Fireman, forest ranger, ambulance driver, salesman, road construction... While I grew up he was a high school teacher. He was always good at mentoring the troubled kids. Because he taught school,we had great summer vacations as a family. Camping, driving, museums, fishing, and visiting relatives. He has always done art commissions on the side to supplement his income. I remember watching him sculpt or paint murals. And he would sometimes take some of us to help paint Christmas windows on stores. It was so fun making little white snowflakes around his lettering or a snowman, or trees. He was patient and encouraging whenever instructing and I really believed him when he told me I was doing an awesome job. (=

(snuggling grandkids)

 My dad is an interesting mix of "jock", artist, laborer, nature lover and homemaker. I remember watching him wash the dishes or cook and thinking that some men of his generation wouldn't be caught dead doing "women's work". How cool is that?
I'm grateful for my dad. Despite the hard road he started on, he has been an exemplary man. And I never have wondered if my dad loves me. He shows it in countless ways.  He is loving, courageous and spiritual. A damaged, but brave soul who just keeps going, trying to live a good life. And that has affected so many lives. His decision to overcome his beginning has made ours and our children's so much better than what he had.

(Parents, me and my siblings with spouses and kids... there are a couple babies more since!)

Dad has dedicated his life to his family and to helping others. Now that all of us are grown and gone, he and my mom will still come out to visit or help any of us when there is a need. They have lived in China and Chile doing humanitarion work and serving people as well as in their community at home. I admire that so much and really try to emulate their compassion.

 I have so many positive memories of dad. My earliest was when I was almost three. I was hit by a car out in front of our house and I have snapshots in my head of the wheel on my leg. Blood. On my back looking up, I saw my dad shouting and running toward the car that had struck me. Then a flash of being in the hospital. My dad held me in his arms. I felt like a big kid because my legs dangled too long over his arm as he held me like a baby, singing in his low, deep voice. Sunlight came in through the window and my leg burned, but I knew I would be ok because dad was there.

Thanks, dad for everything. Mostly, thanks for being there--I know that was more than your father could do for you. So glad I got you for my pop. I love you.