Happy Birthday Dad!

Today my dad would have been 81. I say would have because he passed away 16 years ago this past June. So why remember his birthday? Because he was my father, my friend, my hero. Yep, that was my dad.

I can remember growing up and walking down the street with him holding on to his little finger. He'd take me fishing with him on Saturday mornings and oh how patient he was with me. Mom would pack me a little lunch and when that was gone it was time for me to go home. I never had the patience to just sit and wait for something to happen. But dad did. He'd cast his line into the water and then wait for that little tug that told him something was going to happen. I'd watch his face as he watched that line and when the right moment came (I never knew how he knew the moment had arrived) he'd jerk the rod with a snap and he'd begin to reel in the fish. He was a quiet man. But when he and the fish did battle, he'd get a smile on his face that was mixed with determination and the pleasure of the hunt. Sometimes he'd bring me to the rod right before the fish would go for the bait. He'd take my hands in his and help me snap the rod and reel the fish in. All the time talking to me, telling me what to do and letting me know it was my catch, my fish.

After we were done fishing we'd begin our walk home. But before going home we'd have to stop at the club and have a celebatory drink. Dad would lift me up on the stool next to him and I'd have my Coke and he'd have his usual boiler maker. Sometimes he'd let me have the very last drop from his glass. He'd wink at me and say, "Now don't tell mom." Me tell mom??? Never!! Why I would have stood in front of a moving train to protect him.

I remember Sunday mornings when dad would do the Sunday News crossword puzzle. He'd lay on the livingroom floor or sit at the kitchen table. In between solving the puzzle and reading the news he'd be making dinner. He was a great cook. I'd always be close by trying to see how he made things. When he knew I was looking he'd take a taste of whatever it was he was making and with great gusto and a smile leave out this long sigh of contentment. I knew then dinner would be great. But then peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches became food fit for a king when he made them.

Dad always had time to talk to me. He never said much. But when he spoke I listened. I trusted him in every way. He never left me know that I was overweight or had hair that was too straight and fine. With him I was a princess.

Time passed and I grew up. Our relaltionship changed as I entered my teen years. But dad was always there for me. I was busy trying to find my way around this new world of raging hormones and discovering a new me......the woman me. He never complained when the record player was too loud or my moods were like a roller coaster. I guess in some ways he stabalized me.

Then came the time I was all grown up and married. After three years of marriage and trying to get pregnant, the time came when I was to be a mother. Back then we didn't have the ultrasounds to let us know anything in advance. It was a surprise. For the life of me I couldn't think of a girl's name. I didn't want a girl so why think of a name for one. If it was a boy there would be no discussion as to what his name would be. He would be named after my father. The day came and my son was born. I was on cloud nine. He was born at 9:05 PM on a Friday night. The next day when visiting hours came mom and dad arrived. We all walked down to the nursery to see this 8# 14 oz. bouncing baby boy I gave birth to. Dad looked at him and I looked at dad. I said, "Dad, I'm naming him Joseph Michael after you. It's the only way I can tell you how much I love you." He just looked at me and smiled.

Happy Birthday Dad!