Father's Day

Father's Day

One of the earliest memories I have of my father was when we were on vacation in Colorado in the early 50's. Several hours after leaving the motel that morning headed west I
suddenly discovered I'd left my stuffed monkey – Zippy- back at the
motel room. After screaming and crying loud enough and with enough
juvenile authority I finally was able to assure everyone I would
never be able to live without it. Against everyone's better judgment
dad turned the car around and drove back to the motel to rescue my
monkey. And to shut me up. The whole day was pretty much shot by
engaging in this round trip venture. Spoiled? Never.

On this trip we went to Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, the Painted Desert, the Grand Canyon, the Petrified Forest, and stopped at roadside fruit stands for cherry
cider.

It was a quick trip as our few vacations were. Owning his own business meant always being present and accounted for from sunup til sundown. Time away from it was
precious and rare. Trips to California and back (the two I remember)
were 4 or 5 days at the most and done at breakneck speeds with a toilet stop about every eight hours.

As I grew older dad took me fishing and swimming in farm ponds, skiing and boating at Heyburn Lake and Cushing City Lake. He installed a basketball goal by the driveway for
me and bought me a collie dog I named Laddie. A male version of
Lassie of course. He built me a rabbit hutch so I could raise rabbits
but I found it less tedious and more fun to fill the hutch with
turtles. For some reason. I guess raising rabbits was too much work.
Turtles? Not so much work involved.

Dad bought me my first Shetland pony as well as my first motorcycle, a red Honda 50. I'm at the age now when that red Honda 50 could still come in handy but I don't remember
where I parked it ...or the horse for matter!

Later when he attempted to teach me to work I did not tend to it with the same joy as I did while playing.

I recall my first all day session of working at the store, stocking shelves, bagging potatoes, pumping gas, washing windshields, trimming lettuce, sweeping the floor. I headed
home with my head hung low.

“This is no fun!” I thought to myself. But when Dad opened his wallet and paid me $10 for the days work I perked right up and thought. “Man, oh man! This if the life!
I'm sure looking forward to going to work tomorrow!”

My father showed me by example that you live by your word whether or not it turns out to be convenient, or profitable, never look for a handout, take care of yourself and your
own, help others when you are able and pray for them when you can't.
He taught me there's honor in labor and to be colorblind where race
was concerned.

After almost 60 years of being my Dad I thought it was high time to say, 'Thank you'.

Thanks Dad.

I love you.