Today would have been my Dad’s 73rd birthday. He did not ever get to taste one of my pies, although I’m sure the desserts are much sweeter where he is today. He always said that I should write a book, and I’ve got a couple in the works, but for today, I hope this blog counts.
In his honor, I ate an ample slice of this Apple Pear Crumb Pie for breakfast today. Not really on my diet plan, but birthdays are for celebrating, right?
Today, I’m remembering my Dad with lots of gratitude.
Thanks, Dad, for working hard as a “telephone man” to provide for our family.
For reading to me from your old green Bible about Jesus healing lepers–that time when I watched a Bible movie on TV and thought I would get leprosy.
For eating “pogey bait” with me and growing my sweet tooth.
For teaching me how to plant tomato seeds in a styrofoam cup.
For growing the vegetables that filled our table for years. I have a jar of the last beans that you grew in my pantry that I just can’t open yet.
For being an artist and a writer, even if you never believed you were.
For taking us to church.
For being faithful to mom.
For making me a giant clock to go with my White Rabbit costume in 5th grade. Thanks for not saying I looked more like a snowman or a marshmallow than a rabbit.
For building me a doll house with tiny windows made of match sticks.
For knowing how to tie knots and name trees by the shape of their leaves.
For showing us that serving and giving should be part of life.
For bringing me little frog figurines from your work trips. And bells for Stacey. And cats for Kim. I still have those frogs.
For putting the Christmas tree lights on every year (never mind the language involved :))
For showing us that you can, if you need to, learn to fix a toilet, repair a roof, change your oil, or pretty much anything.
For the smile you gave me on my wedding day when, after saying “Her mother and I” for the last time, you let out an audible (but just to me) “Whew” noise.
For the cool centerpiece you could make with pineapple chunks and cherries.
For the conversation we had in the front yard of 1818 Leslie Lane, when I told you I thought Joseph would propose to me soon. You were waxing the car under the maple tree.
For planting a tree in our yard on our daughter’s first birthday.
For giving our son his first bike.
For giving our artist her first “real” easel. You would be so proud of her artwork now.
For being Papa.
For taking care of things so that Mom does not have to worry now.
For loving Mom.
For loving us.
For loving me.