Grandpa

This year my dad turns 80. An amazing man. I am looking forward to seeing him next month and having a long-awaited reunion with my hero.

Brookings By The Sea Poem

Dad and Ethel
Live each day
Relaxed and enjoying
Retirement. They
Don’t fight the traffic
Much these days;
Just enjoy their lives,
Watching the waves
At Brookings by the sea.

Their days are filled
With beauty, though.
A garden full
Of plants they grow.
Green thumbs abound,
And treasures glow
At Brookings by the sea.

Their grandkids laugh
At jokes he tells,
He likes to say
That something smells,
Because he knows
It cures all ails,
At Brookings by the sea.

And Grandma’s food
Is excellent,
You’ll wonder where
The cookies went.
And Grandpa’s grub
Is heaven-sent
At Brookings by the sea.

They’ll bring out games
To make you roll.
You’ll laugh so hard,
You’ll know that ‘ole
Grandpa’s cracking
Jokes again
At Brookings by the sea.
They’ll take a walk
Down to the shore
Where waves are crashing
Forever more.
And you’ll leave your keys
Then lock the door
At Brookings by the sea.

But all works out
For good somehow.
You’ll laugh about it
Years from now.
It’s all ‘bout fam’ly
Anyhow,
At Brookings by the sea.

So when to Texas
You might go;
So far from seashore
Kids in tow;
To go back there…
Your heart may know…
Of Brookings by the sea.

And when it’s evening
With kids asleep,
Lift prayers of those
You love, you’ll keep
Dad and Ethel
Top ‘o the heap,
At Brookings by the sea.

Ice Castles and Snow Angels

Making childhood exciting was my dad's job in life. As far as we were concerned, he was put on earth just to make us happy.
Growing up in Northern California was like a fairy tale for me. We lived in a big house with a huge yard, complete with a swimming pool we put up every summer in our back yard.
Winters were filled with snowball fights, making igloos, and shoveling out the driveway. The latter was my least-favorite thing to do in the winter. But the other things were great.
Dad would hear the weather man tell of a freeze coming on and, with the intention of saving the pipes from freezing, he would place the hose with a sprinkler high atop one of the oak trees near our house. Leaving the water running all night created a winter wonderland like none I've ever seen since. The "ice castle" would be amazing, icesicles hanging from the tree limbs, glistening in the morning light. We would awaken and gaze in awe at Dad's creation, wandering in and out, being careful not to cause the masterpiece to break.
We also laid in the snow, freshly fallen, and made snow angels by moving our arms and legs side to side. I can't say I ever mastered this feat, but instead allowed my younger sisters to excell far beyond me in the angel-making department. I always felt clumsy and awkward, even though my name means graceful.
Making igloos in the deepest snow was wonderful, especially sitting inside where no sound could penetrate. I imagined being an Eskimo, living in an igloo, going to school with snowshoes on, and wondered how much fun it must be for them.
My dad told stories of walking to school in the snow when it was over his head, and we laughed, not quite believing him but knowing it must have been hard for him to do. When it snowed alot in our town, they called off school and we all played in the snow, or stayed inside where it was warm.
Fond memories of days gone by. But what an exciting childhood it was....a winter wonderland was reality in our own back yard!

Dreams, Paper Boys and Hersheys

My dad turned 79 in September and I am so glad God has given him this many years on the earth.
He grew up in Alameda, California, and told us about when he was young, he sold the newspaper down on the docks to the longshoremen. He would get his pay and buy a box of Hersheys' chocolate bars. He would sit and eat every last one before he got home.
His dream was to be a fisherman. He always wanted to sit and fish on the ocean, mending his nets and spending time by himself.
Instead, my dad married at 23, had 5 children and became a school teacher, principal and then a superintendent before he retired.
He now lives in Oregon, with a wonderful woman he loves. He says she's changed him and I can only agree.
I am grateful for all he invested in our lives, and continues to invest. He's an encourager, a dreamer and a wonderful father.
Labels: Alameda, California, dreams, newspapers, teens

Tickles and Giggles

My dad has always been able to make me laugh.

Even now, his phone calls usually involve some type of joke. I was running a motel for a while and he left a message on my voice mail, telling me in a Chinese accent that he wanted to reserve two rooms, because he had two pygmies and a mongoose with him. He said the mongoose would sleep with him, but the pygmies needed their own room.

He taught me to enjoy laughter and always loved to tickle us when we were little. He would pretend to be a giant and pretended to fall asleep on his bed, holding us in his arms. We would wait until he began to snore loudly, and then we'd try to wriggle out of his grasp. He would groan and move to get a better grip on his prey, and then we'd all stop moving until he would begin snoring again....it was so fun and we all loved the "Giant" game.

My dad makes life fun, and he always found humor in every day things. I am glad I have had that attitude in life, thanks to my dad.

The House That Bob Built

To begin my poem, there are no words.
My feeble attempts are for the birds;
Not just a house of lumber and nails,
But precious memories and tales
Come from the House That Bob Built.

This man is gifted in many ways,
For never were there boring days.
Four girls he fathered, then his son;
I had it best, in lines, I’m “one,”
Born in the House That Bob Built.

The man is born of flesh and bone,
With a heart that has forever grown
To love the children, gifts from God,
Equipping them, this earth to trod.
A legacy of the House That Bob Built.

Although the years have flown right by;
Keeping us laughing, sometimes we sigh,
But never will his light go out,
His legacy lives, there is no doubt,
Because we’re the House That Bob Built.

Scared Spitless

Halloween brings back memories of my dad, who loved to scare the trick-or-treaters.
He would put shaving cream all over his face, and when they came knocking on the door, he would jump out from behind the door, both hands in a grabbing position and growl at the kids, with the poor trick-or-treaters running for their lives.
It was so funny to us, and I am grateful I never knocked on a door and was greeted by such a thing as my dad's shaving cream mug staring back at me....I would probably still be running.
One thing I've thought about, though.
I'll bet he didn't have to spend much on Halloween candy........