Dad's Birthday Tribute
Do you ever find yourself daydreaming about when you were a kid? I did today while sorting through some of my mom and dad’s mementos. Dad has been gone since 1985 and mom went to join him in heaven last September. It’s been hard to enjoy the first few major holidays, especially now that both my parents are gone. I’m very thankful for my immediate family to lean on when I feel a little blue.
Reading old letters and gazing at family pictures of when I was a child triggered some really fond memories of growing up in the sixties and seventies in the Hoosier state. I’ll share a few about dad with you now.
One vivid recollection I have is when dad tossed us all in the back seat of the Buick and we headed to the Indiana Dunes! Every single window was down and our unrestrained bodies bounced wildly as he pressed the pedal to the floor. A half-smoked cigarette hung from his mouth. The car radio blasted a current top hit. My hair was a tangled mess from hanging out the window in fervid anticipation of catching that first vivid blue shot of Lake Michigan as the car crested the last hill. It looked like the Pacific Ocean! So beautiful and inviting! The pristine white dunes surrounded us, towering up like sandy sentinels to the incoming waves. Dad would throw us in the frigid water and laugh while we spluttered and splashed but he’d never let us sink completely. He was teaching us how to fend for ourselves. And we have.
I lingered on a picture of grandma’s red brick house with the diamond-paned windows. How I loved those windows! Through them I could see W. 43rd Ave and the other pretty homes that lined the street in Gary, IN. I looked out front at the white picket fence that grandpa put up himself. The fence and the house are gone now, destroyed by fire. Heartbreaking.
We visited their home quite frequently when I was young. My two sisters and I used to walk down to the corner grocery store on the rare occasions when we had enough loose change to purchase an ice cream bar from the antique freezer case. Remember the doorbells that older establishments had? A backup notification of a patron’s arrival or exit, just in case the proprietor was in the back alley, taking a smoke break.
We’d leisurely walk back to grandma’s house, trying to make the ice cream last as long as we could. It seems like summers were always hot and humid, too. We didn’t care. It was part of being a kid. What did we do to cool off? I’ll tell you! Grandma had a red scooter that we rode like maniacs down the sidewalk hill next to her house! Over and over again, whooping it up and enjoying the breeze in our faces and thrill in our hearts. If it wasn’t your turn to ride it, you’d pretend you were a horse, smack your thighs and whinny on the way down. Imaginary characters from TV and movies manifested themselves without the use of a computer or cellphone. How ‘bout them apples? Even though we still laugh about the “lame” entertainment at grandma’s house, I’d give just about anything to step onto that scooter again and take another fun ride down the hill! No major accidents ever occurred. If one of us had taken a spill, mom and dad were right there on the back porch, just a cigarette butt’s throw away. Notice how much I mention smoking. It was such a prominent part of life in that time period. That’s just the way it was. Now, we know better.
Grandma’s neighbor had a black dog that dad loved to tease. He’d walk up to the fence that separated the houses and goad that poor dog until he was beside himself. Poor thing, I’m sorry dad was a little off his rocker. It makes me laugh to think about it, because I am too.
At times, however, dad revealed that he really did love animals. Oftentimes, he would come home from being out of town on a business trip and sadly say, “I saw Spot again.” Spot was an imaginary dog that dad loved to repeatedly conjure up in the hopes that mom would allow him to bring home a real dog. He claimed that Spot showed up on a street corner or a parking lot in every city he traveled to. Who knows, maybe he did. Dad would bring strays home with no advance notice. A Great Dane one year or a Sheep Dog the next. Mom would exclaim, “Byrt, what were you thinking?” The dogs would be banished to the basement for a few days and eventually taken to the pound for adoption by another family. My parents did adopt a Siamese cat named Rufus. He was a loving pet for many years. The occasional hamster shared our home, too.
I miss all the family reunions we had at Fred Rose Park in Hobart, IN. Dad would always organize the softball games. Those were some great times. You don't realize it until you are grown and look back. A lot of relatives have passed away since then. Dad, being the oldest brother, was always looked up to. Big Brother B was his nickname.
Fast forward to my teenage years when we lived in Houston, TX. Dad took us to some pretty unique events. Fiddling contests, prison rodeos and ethnic food fairs. I’ll never forget how proud I was when we attended his ring presentation after becoming a Thirty-second Degree Mason. The surprise baseball game he took us to between the Astros and Cubs was epic. I wrote about it here: A Baseball Game With Dad
I received two of my favorite birthday gifts from mom and dad while I lived in Houston. A softball glove and a microscope. Dad took me to buy both. Guess you could say I had duel interests. I still love sports and science.
Although dad had a great job at the time I think the opportunity to own a business was too hard to pass up so in 1978 he bought an accounting firm and we moved back to Indiana. He put in some really long hours managing books for his clients. At one time, my older sister and I worked for him at his office. We were paid $25 a week and had to purchase groceries for the family with our paychecks. That really didn’t leave us with very much spending money but it did leave us with a realization that it doesn’t grow on trees.
In the eighties dad bought The Hoosier Court Motel in Rockville, IN. A mini-mart and gas station would be added to the location. Dad was proud of that business but it would take its toll on his health. He lost his battle with heart disease at the age of 57. He never got to meet our wonderful daughters and their husbands. At least he was able to go with mom on one long road trip to the deep South, visiting plantations and landmarks of interest. He always did love to just get in the car and go for a drive. Sometimes, a destination isn’t always necessary in life. It’s the trip that matters.
Happy 91st Birthday in heaven, dad. Hold my reservation, please. Give mom and Spot a hug. Love you.
Reading old letters and gazing at family pictures of when I was a child triggered some really fond memories of growing up in the sixties and seventies in the Hoosier state. I’ll share a few about dad with you now.
 |
| Dad's girls. I'm the bratty baby |
One vivid recollection I have is when dad tossed us all in the back seat of the Buick and we headed to the Indiana Dunes! Every single window was down and our unrestrained bodies bounced wildly as he pressed the pedal to the floor. A half-smoked cigarette hung from his mouth. The car radio blasted a current top hit. My hair was a tangled mess from hanging out the window in fervid anticipation of catching that first vivid blue shot of Lake Michigan as the car crested the last hill. It looked like the Pacific Ocean! So beautiful and inviting! The pristine white dunes surrounded us, towering up like sandy sentinels to the incoming waves. Dad would throw us in the frigid water and laugh while we spluttered and splashed but he’d never let us sink completely. He was teaching us how to fend for ourselves. And we have.
 |
| Indiana Dunes. Get there. |
I lingered on a picture of grandma’s red brick house with the diamond-paned windows. How I loved those windows! Through them I could see W. 43rd Ave and the other pretty homes that lined the street in Gary, IN. I looked out front at the white picket fence that grandpa put up himself. The fence and the house are gone now, destroyed by fire. Heartbreaking.
 |
| Grandma and grandpa's house |
We visited their home quite frequently when I was young. My two sisters and I used to walk down to the corner grocery store on the rare occasions when we had enough loose change to purchase an ice cream bar from the antique freezer case. Remember the doorbells that older establishments had? A backup notification of a patron’s arrival or exit, just in case the proprietor was in the back alley, taking a smoke break.
We’d leisurely walk back to grandma’s house, trying to make the ice cream last as long as we could. It seems like summers were always hot and humid, too. We didn’t care. It was part of being a kid. What did we do to cool off? I’ll tell you! Grandma had a red scooter that we rode like maniacs down the sidewalk hill next to her house! Over and over again, whooping it up and enjoying the breeze in our faces and thrill in our hearts. If it wasn’t your turn to ride it, you’d pretend you were a horse, smack your thighs and whinny on the way down. Imaginary characters from TV and movies manifested themselves without the use of a computer or cellphone. How ‘bout them apples? Even though we still laugh about the “lame” entertainment at grandma’s house, I’d give just about anything to step onto that scooter again and take another fun ride down the hill! No major accidents ever occurred. If one of us had taken a spill, mom and dad were right there on the back porch, just a cigarette butt’s throw away. Notice how much I mention smoking. It was such a prominent part of life in that time period. That’s just the way it was. Now, we know better.
Grandma’s neighbor had a black dog that dad loved to tease. He’d walk up to the fence that separated the houses and goad that poor dog until he was beside himself. Poor thing, I’m sorry dad was a little off his rocker. It makes me laugh to think about it, because I am too.
At times, however, dad revealed that he really did love animals. Oftentimes, he would come home from being out of town on a business trip and sadly say, “I saw Spot again.” Spot was an imaginary dog that dad loved to repeatedly conjure up in the hopes that mom would allow him to bring home a real dog. He claimed that Spot showed up on a street corner or a parking lot in every city he traveled to. Who knows, maybe he did. Dad would bring strays home with no advance notice. A Great Dane one year or a Sheep Dog the next. Mom would exclaim, “Byrt, what were you thinking?” The dogs would be banished to the basement for a few days and eventually taken to the pound for adoption by another family. My parents did adopt a Siamese cat named Rufus. He was a loving pet for many years. The occasional hamster shared our home, too.
I miss all the family reunions we had at Fred Rose Park in Hobart, IN. Dad would always organize the softball games. Those were some great times. You don't realize it until you are grown and look back. A lot of relatives have passed away since then. Dad, being the oldest brother, was always looked up to. Big Brother B was his nickname.
Fast forward to my teenage years when we lived in Houston, TX. Dad took us to some pretty unique events. Fiddling contests, prison rodeos and ethnic food fairs. I’ll never forget how proud I was when we attended his ring presentation after becoming a Thirty-second Degree Mason. The surprise baseball game he took us to between the Astros and Cubs was epic. I wrote about it here: A Baseball Game With Dad
I received two of my favorite birthday gifts from mom and dad while I lived in Houston. A softball glove and a microscope. Dad took me to buy both. Guess you could say I had duel interests. I still love sports and science.
Although dad had a great job at the time I think the opportunity to own a business was too hard to pass up so in 1978 he bought an accounting firm and we moved back to Indiana. He put in some really long hours managing books for his clients. At one time, my older sister and I worked for him at his office. We were paid $25 a week and had to purchase groceries for the family with our paychecks. That really didn’t leave us with very much spending money but it did leave us with a realization that it doesn’t grow on trees.
In the eighties dad bought The Hoosier Court Motel in Rockville, IN. A mini-mart and gas station would be added to the location. Dad was proud of that business but it would take its toll on his health. He lost his battle with heart disease at the age of 57. He never got to meet our wonderful daughters and their husbands. At least he was able to go with mom on one long road trip to the deep South, visiting plantations and landmarks of interest. He always did love to just get in the car and go for a drive. Sometimes, a destination isn’t always necessary in life. It’s the trip that matters.
Happy 91st Birthday in heaven, dad. Hold my reservation, please. Give mom and Spot a hug. Love you.
I remember when Dad caught me "smoking" one of his butts he had thrown down when he was mowing the back yard. I was about 6 and he took me in the house and in front of Mom said "Here you wanna smoke ? Here's a a whole cigarette , let me light it for ya" He wanted to teach me a lesson but i was just puffin away, (I didn't know how to inhale) till Mom said "Byrt have you last your mind?" So funny...I didn't start real smokin' till college ...and as i recall my 1st cigarette made me sick as a dog. Good times.
ReplyDeleteWhat our parents do to teach us lessons. Ha!
Delete