I realized a few years ago, and just recently
my husband Ben and I agreed, that our parents stay a certain age in our minds
eye. Through the years I’ve watched my dad age, his dark “Newman” circles under
his eyes get darker and his small frame getting more fragile, but when I think
of him, he is still 40. He’s still sharp as a tack, with shining eyes, his dark
curly hair neatly trimmed under his black leather Ivy cap, dressed in his 30/30
501 Levis, button up shirt, black leather vest with pocket watch, and polished
black cowboy boots. “Well! Yer lookin’ good!” He would always say (even over
the phone, thousands of miles away) “Well, your not lookin’ too shabby
yourself”, I would say.
Many memories with my dad involve slow rides
down every country road in Coles, Moultrie and Shelby County, him with a beer
between his legs and me with a can of coke. I never said he was the perfect
role model. He was by far not perfect, thank god. That would have been very
boring.
My dad loved people and he had many many friends.
He loved to “debate” (some say argue) and he was known to get a little
philosophical. He was the type to give the shirt off his back, even when it’s
the only shirt he had. He was never one to get too caught up in material
things, and was always there to help Ben and I out in extremely generous ways.
He always said to me “hey, slow down girl…life is beautiful.”
I must have been around 5 years old and I was
spending the weekend with dad at his place in Springfield. I was having some
sort of 5 year old tantrum and I wrote the note “I hate you!” on a piece of
paper, threw it at him and ran to hide in his bedroom closet. He wrote “I love
you!” on a note and slipped it under the closet door. This went on back and
forth for who knows how long, but I do know…he won that argument!
A few years later, at home in Mattoon, dad
was pouring me a glass of milk. He said “Say “When”” and when it looked good I
said “okay!....STOP!....WHEN!!!!”…by the time I got to “When”, half a gallon of
milk was on the floor and he had a smirk on his face I remember to this day.
His advise for a stressful situation was to
stop and have some ice cream, or maybe a slice (or two) of pie and a cup of
coffee. For many years our weekly phone conversations were as early as 5am. Ben
and I got him hooked on "good" coffee, which involved grinding his
own beans and using a "malita" to make one cup at a time. (For those
of you that know my dad, this is no doubt a funny scene!) I would call up,
"what are you doing?" "I'm building myself a cup of coffee! What
are you doing?" I of course was also "building" myself a cup of
coffee. Mornings were our favorite. Sometimes though, when the moon was full,
he'd call me up and say "Hey! You see that moon tonight?!"
Dad, Life is beautiful. Thanks for
being such a big part of mine.
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