Father's Day

I love my dad. I love him and I like him. He fascinates me, and he has provided me with so many good memories, and such a feeling of warm love, like a soft blanket. When I think of the word "father" I think of hugs and cuddles and watching Lassie while tucked under his arm sitting on the couch so I could bury my head in his chest when the scary parts happened. I really don't know how to pay tribute to this man. So I'll just ramble a little.

He's the most happily retired man I know. The concept of retirement was born with my dad in mind. At 88 years old, he now has been retired for as many years as he worked. And this is great, because he worked in a factory and hated it. So for the same number of years that he doggedly drove 30 miles to work and back every day, he has now been able to relax and do whatever he wants.

My dad still rides his motorcycle. Now this might be scary to anybody who doesn't know him, but I only worry about him on that bike the same as I would worry about anybody at any age riding a motorcycle. In so many ways, age for him really is just a number.

He still plays his saxophone late into the evening. Except these days, he does it in his own living room, playing along with big band CD's or videos instead of the hotels and lounges of his youth. He plays because he loves to play. Dad loves music more than anybody I know. But not just any music. He loves swing. Good jazz. A great big band arrangement can literally bring tears to his eyes. He's still that passionate about his love for jazz.

He taught himself to play the organ after he retired. He got himself a nice console organ, the kind with the bass and drum beat built in. He's not nearly as accomplished at organ as he is the saxophone. In fact sometimes it's downright painful to hear him struggle through a song he's trying for the first time. But he'll keep trying it, and try it again later until he gets it pretty good. When I hear him make it smoothly through a nice pretty song I always tell him, "That was a good one, Dad."

Dad saves stuff. Well, he saves pretty much everything he ever owned. It might come in handy some day. Even if it's just for parts. And actually, it usually does.

He invents things. He says it's because he's lazy. He hooked up a device that lets him know if the mailman has been by yet. His mail box is across the road, so you have to go out and check. But he rigged up a device that hooks over the bottom of the mail box door and releases when it's opened. This falls away and reveals a white flag that lets him know the mail has come just by looking out the window. He's been doing that for years. Now I see they're selling the same kind of thing in mail order catalogs.

Dad still climbs up on the roof when something needs fixing up there. Why wouldn't he? He's been doing it all his life. This is what he tells me. He goes into the garage, takes the big extension ladder down from the wall, carries it to the spot he needs it, walks it up to the house, extends the thing skyward, and up he goes. If he's painting the trim or something up there, he repeats this procedure over and over in every location he needs it. After repeatedly expressing my concerns about being up there when nobody's around, he now humors me by waiting until I'm home to do this. I think.

Dad has a few favorite TV stations. Number one is the Fox News network. He can watch these guys yelling at each other for hours. But on the flip side, his other favorite show is Seinfeld. Now Seinfeld was not intended as a show for senior citizens, and I doubt the creators or the advertisers expected octegenarians to be sitting in front their TV sets busting a gut over it. But he does. He still watches the re-runs and still laughs out loud over the misadventures of the Seinfeld characters. He also likes old movies, from the 30's and 40's. He can watch them over and over. It makes him feel comfortable. That's when men were men and women were feminine, and they were all wearing the right clothes. The plots are straightforward and you can understand what they're saying.

Dad has been a great role model without ever intending to. He's not a mover and a shaker. He keeps to himself a lot of the time. He's not out there involved in this and that, but he's not afraid of saying what's right and what's wrong, because after all, isn't it obvious? The lessons he has taught me have more to do with how to take life as it comes, what to really appreciate, how to take care of yourself physically, how to keep it simple, and how to simply love your family.
My dad loves me and I know it. No doubt. He loves all his kids unconditionally and can't get over how lucky he is to have such wonderful kids and grandkids. He just doesn't know what he ever did to deserve this great fortune. I hope he knows that we all feel exactly the same way about him.

Especially me.