My earliest memories of my Dad are riding up and down Daytona Beach in a Model A Ford and visiting the Sigma Chi Frat House. I am told that when I was a baby and got fussy he would lay me on his chest, and I would fall asleep easily. As I grew older, I was sure my dad had hung the moon in its place. I guess every girl thinks that way about her dad.
When I was very little, my dad was off flying Hueys in Viet Nam. He doesn’t talk about that much,and I know it was really hard for him. But, Dad, I am so proud of you for doing your best over there.
My parents divorce deprived me of having my Dad in my life on a daily basis. However, to me, Dad was a fixed point, calm, stable, safe. We visited him nearly every summer. First in San Francisco where he took us to Fisherman’s Wharf and Ghiradelli Square. He also introduced my sister and me to Ramen Noodles, which we could not get enough of. So, one weekend, he and my stepmom planned a Ramen Noodle feast. They fixed it up like stir fried rice and made a fancy meal out of it. I thought that was just the neatest thing. Another thing they had in San Fran were these fold out foam matresses called “yos”. We used to fold them up and slide down the stairwell in the house in Fort Mason.
After retiring from the army, Dad moved to Florida where my stepmom’s famliy lived. I loved visiting Florida. There was a lot to see and do. And you cannot get truly fresh mangoes anywhere else in the US. We would help dad clean the pool and have family bingo nights where we each made a special dish. My sister made a broccoli quiche, and I made a cherry cheesecake. We had a great time catching the lizards on the rocks, driving through Alligator Alley, and visiting my stepmom’s relatives. And, of course, every road trip meant Jimmy Buffet, Neil Diamond, and Kenny Rogers on the radio in the Z.
Some people have said that it’s easy to be a great parent for 2 weeks or so out of the whole year, but it really doesn’t matter. The effect on me was the same as if he had been a good parent all year long. We did live with my dad for a whole year when my sister and I were 12 and 13 and things weren’t much different. My dad wasn’t perfect. He would blow it, lose his cool, rant, cuss a bit. But that wasn’t the norm. And he ALWAYS came back and apologized, doing his best to restore the relationship. My Dad treated me with respect. He never talked down to me or belittled me. He expected great things of me and yet accepted me just the way I was. He always built me up and encouraged me. I never wanted to let him down in any way.
I admire and respect you, Dad. And love you more than you’ll ever know.
Happy Birthday.
Love,
Karen
My earliest memories of my Dad are of riding up and down Daytona Beach in a Model A Ford and visiting the Sigma Chi Frat House. I am told that when I was a baby and got fussy he would lay me on his chest, and I would fall asleep easily. As I grew older, I was sure my dad had hung the moon in its place. I guess every girl thinks that way about her dad.
When I was very little, my dad was off flying Hueys in Viet Nam. He doesn’t talk about that much, and I know it was really hard for him. But, Dad, I am so proud of you for doing your best over there.
My parent’s divorce deprived me of having my Dad in my life on a daily basis. However, to me, Dad was a fixed point, calm, stable, safe. We visited him nearly every summer. First in San Francisco where he took us to Fisherman’s Wharf and Ghiradelli Square. He also introduced my sister and me to Ramen Noodles, which we could not get enough of. So, one weekend, he and my stepmom planned a Ramen Noodle feast. They fixed it up like stir fried rice and made a fancy meal out of it. I thought that was just the neatest thing. Another thing they had in San Fran were these fold out foam matresses called “yos”. We used to fold them up and slide down the stairwell in the house in Fort Mason.
After retiring from the army, Dad moved to Florida where my stepmom’s famliy lived. I loved visiting Florida. There was a lot to see and do. (And you cannot get truly fresh mangoes anywhere else in the US.) We would help dad clean the pool and then have family bingo nights where we each made a special dish. My sister made a broccoli quiche, and I made a cherry cheesecake. We had a great time catching the lizards on the rocks, driving through Alligator Alley, and visiting my stepmom’s relatives. And, of course, every road trip meant Jimmy Buffet, Neil Diamond, and Kenny Rogers on the radio in the Z.
Some people have said that it’s easy to be a great parent for 2 weeks or so out of the whole year, but it really doesn’t matter. The effect on me was the same as if he had been a good parent all year long. We did live with my dad for a year when my sister and I were 12 and 13, and things weren’t much different. My dad wasn’t perfect. He would blow it, lose his cool, rant, cuss a bit. But that wasn’t the norm. And he ALWAYS came back and apologized, doing his best to restore the relationship. My Dad treated me with respect. He never talked down to me or belittled me. He expected great things of me and yet accepted me just the way I was. He always built me up and encouraged me. I never wanted to let him down in any way and still feel that way today.
I admire and respect you, Dad. And love you more than you’ll ever know. You have been an awesome Dad.
Happy Birthday.
Love,
Karen
