Happy 90th Birthday, Dad!

 If my dad had lived another twenty years, he would be turning ninety today. Although I’ve thought of him practically every day since the day he died, it still surprises me that he’s been gone so long and has missed so much. I wish he could see his grown-up grandchildren and meet his great grandchildren. I wish he could see how far technology has come in the last twenty years. But probably most of all, I wish the phone would ring and I’d hear his voice on the other end saying, “Hi, Babe. I don’t really want anything. Just thought I’d check in.” 

Back when those phone calls came regularly, I was a busy, frazzled, working mom. Sometimes I’d sometimes think, If you don’t really want anything, why are you calling? Now that I’m retired and have grown-up kids of my own, I know exactly why he was calling: to hear my voice, to make sure all was well, to stay connected… 

 

The same thing happened in childhood. If one of us kids happened to run into Dad in town when we were on our way to the pool or to a friend’s, he’d be as pleased as anything to see us. “Hey, Windy Mindy,” he’d say to me, “Want to go to Isaly’s for a vanilla Coke?” Sometimes I went, other times, I was too busy with my friends and my plans. TOO BUSY. If only I’d known then what I know now: It wasn’t about the vanilla Coke (though, those soda fountain vanilla Cokes were delicious), it was about a dad who, even then, could hear the pounding feet of the years slipping by, a dad who’d do anything to spend a few minutes with one of his kids.  

 

Like everyone, my dad had his share of troubles. He struggled to find the right job and career. He suffered from anxiety, depression, poor health for almost all of his adult life. Sometimes, those things got in the way of being a dad. Although I have memories of some of those hard times, what I remember more are all the days and all the ways he was a great dad—despite the battles he was fighting.

 

In honor of Dad's 90th birthday, here are just nine of my favorite memories from childhood: 

• The packages of M & M’s he left under our pillows on nights he got home late.
• The time he made my school lunch and instead of a sandwich, he put a potholder between two pieces of bread with a dollar tucked underneath along a note saying I had permission to eat lunch in town.
• His practice of giving us Friday night dimes (later quarters) to spend on anything we wanted.
• The nights he’d come through the door and call out, “Who wants a party?” then pull out little packages of Hostess cakes.
• The odd times he played kickball, four-square, or Spud with us when Mom was working.
• His roll calls: “Is everybody happy? Gail? Timmer? Windy Mindy? Salbo? Willie Bill?”
• The sound of his voice as he led the music at church, sang duets with my mom, or belted out “Five Golden Rings on Christmas car trips.
• The way he thought a milkshake could fix just about anything—from a sore throat to hurt feelings. 
• His ability to make each of us four kids feel like we were his favorite.

Although I would love to have had another twenty years with my dad, he gave me so much to hold onto in his absence. The very best memory I have, the one I carry with me everywhere I go every day of my life is the way Dad was always in my corner, the way he cheered me on and cheered me up, the way he believed in me and helped me believe in myself. In short, the way he loved me. What more could a daughter ask for?

Happy 90th Birthday, Dad. I miss you.