This is the time my mind is the most awake lately. Lots of good prayer time; lots of good time to think of the people I love.
This early morning my thoughts turn to my dad. Remembering when he remembered me.
My earliest memories are of our family living with his parents until we could find a house big enough for three and one-on-the-way children.
When we moved to our new house, dad used to take the bus to work. My sisters and I used to watch down the street for him to get off the bus at dinner time. Three piece suit, hat and briefcase. So dapper.
We used to run down the block so he would pick us up and swing us around and around and then walk him home to supper. On winter days we would hide in wait with snowballs at the ready. If we hit him with a snowball we knew to expect him to wash our faces in snow. It never deterred us.
My dad used to cut the grass in his dress shirts. He would get home from work, take off his coat and tie (not sure if vests were still in at this point) and go cut the lawn while it was still light out.
He used to make us burgers on the grill, doused in beer!
I remember sledding down snowy hills on his lap. He would wear his duck waders and that was our sled. We would ride like the wind.
I have a picture-it-in-my-head memory because I was at a cousin's for a sleepover on this occasion, of another time the duck waders were used. We had a bat in the bathroom. A tiny bat. The kids that were home could not sleep until said bat was taken care of. So dad pulled on his duck waders, his winter coat (it was July), and a hat. Then he sat down and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to help get up his nerve. He put on some gloves and grabbed the broom and took care of that bat.
We used to go to Lexington, MI in the summer. One year we rented a big old house that had been taken over by spiders. We kids had to stay outside while mom and dad went in and made it almost livable. I'm pretty sure Scotch was involved!
He used to take us to the beach and swing us over the water on the rope swing.
My dad's favorite party was Barnfunc. A many differently spelled way party that meant Christmas was two weeks away. He loved to pickle the cows' tongues and make the Func, Vodka, honey and lemon brewed to perfection on the stovetop.
My dad introduced us to Star Trek and the Six Million Dollar Man. When he read the paper he would let us try to distract him by not getting too upset when we would punch the paper to make him pay attention to us.
He taught me how to balance a checkbook and pay my bills. Because he was an accountant he had a 10 key and boy did his fingers fly on that thing. Saturday mornings were bank days. My working siblings and I would get out our meager bills, stamps, checkbooks and pens and sit down and pay our bills while dad pay the household bills. Money was not discussed! It was none of our business, but he would help us if we needed his input.
Dad did not discuss his faith, but by gum we were at Mass, dressed up, every Sunday. If we misbehaved we got the eye and a finger snap that put us in our place immediately.
As he got older, he would pray the Rosary with us. It, and daily Mass, had finally become a comfort to him thanks to mom.
When the grandkids started coming along he would love on them, too. Their tiny diapers and onsies were referred to as "little shits" (but never the children!) He would sing to them and read them books. Amelia Bedelia was a favorite as was Winnie the Pooh. Poor Eeyore; it wasn't bad enough that he suffered from depression, but dad added insult to injury by calling him Eyesore. The kids loved it.
Dad doesn't know who I am anymore but for some reason he remembers his nickname for Wayne. He calls him "big guy" to this day.
For the longest time, when other memories were gone, he remembered his big sister, Pat.
We have to visit him now at a memory care facility where other care givers give mom a hand.
The one face he never forgets is his wife,
because when you've been married to this beauty for 55 years, it's hardly a face you could forget.
Love you both to pieces!!
