Happy Father's Day
to
ALL the Dads Out There!
It will be thirteen years ago this coming Thanksgiving since my Dad passed away, but I often think of him. (It's said that no one is truly gone as long as they are remembered...) He's come to mind especially poignantly a couple of times this year when we've been traveling.
The first was when we were in Louisville and went to the factory where they make Louisville Sluggers. My very earliest memories are of being at baseball games, often playing under the bleachers with my Sister Sherry. Dad always played baseball when we were kids. He played for local town teams, both the Marcellus Grangers and later the Ritzville Ramblers. He played baseball after he was drafted into the Army in World War II (because he was married with two children, he was drafted late in the war) when he was stationed in Oklahoma at Fort Sill. The get-to-gathers after the baseball games were always special -- there was always big tubs filled with ice, one held beer and the other bottles of pop. It was the only time we ever got to have pop and it was a BIG decision to decide whether to have orange or cherry or maybe grape?
Dad was a catcher and I remember him often squatting in that catcher's stance when he was talking or waiting. (My first sight of him when our train arrived in Oklahoma to visit was of him squatting on the platform.) He had an ornery teasing grin that crinkled his blue eyes -- it is such a delight to see it show up in his grandsons and great-grands. He also had "the look." I don't know if it was the era and the way kids were expected to behave, but he didn't have to say anything -- he just looked at you and you knew you'd better stop whatever it was -- right now! The thing is, it worked on my kids too. I sure wished I could do it!
Dad came to mind again when we were at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. I would have loved to chat with him about some of the people honored and the exhibits we saw. He was always pretty out-spoken and it would have been fun to hear his stories about some of that history.
When he became too old to play, Dad became an umpire. He not only umpired baseball, he refereed basketball and football. He must have been a good referee, as he was invited to referee at the State Basketball Tournaments several times. (Of course, as a teenager, I cringed in the stands when I heard some of the catcalls directed at him...) Growing up, our house ALWAYS smelled like the analgesic balm he used on his sore muscles.
Our granddaughter Havela wrote a major paper for her AP class this spring about our Scots-Irish ancestry and the leadership qualities that were passed down from those hardy ancestors who arrived in America in colonial times. Dad exemplified that. He was a Volunteer Fireman, a 4-H Leader, and Chairman of the School Board (he presented me with my high school diploma). After he retired he was appointed to the State Fair Commission and he and Mom spent many happy days traveling throughout the state visiting and inspecting fairs.
Hmm, this started out to just be a very short paragraph remembering my Dad this Father's Day. I realize that I could just keep remembering and writing about him. I may not be able to physically give him a hug today or call him on the telephone, but in my heart, I can still say, "Thank you for being my Dad! I love you!"
