Happy Birthday Dad!

Happy Birthday Dad, Oct. 2. I'm sorry I can't see you to say it here on Earth, but I know you see me and know how much I miss you.

Dad, I remember the good times, when you were happy, like when you played the harmonica (especially "Pop goes the Weasel") or you detached your thumb (I wish you could show that to my son) or when you cupped your hands together and hooted like an owl or a morning dove or when you did the chicken dance, yes the chicken dance, with your hands under your pits, picking up your legs and strutting like a chicken with your head bobbing.
I remember playing cribbage and yahtzee with you before you went to work, waiting for the Patrol Car to pick you up, you chewing spearmint gum, looking so sharp in your police uniform. I remember Lisa and I having to pull off your tall, black work boots, the two of us had trouble doing it together. I remember hearing you cry after you had just responded to accident scenes (the Bone tree incident and Mrs. Muhulland's death by her husband's gunshot (dad not knowing if it was accidental or not) and when your dad died. Few people saw this side of you.
I remember watching Charlie Brown Christmas and eating popcorn and drinking pepsi from glass bottles poured into cups with ice.
I remember the pride of having you as a Dad.
I remember living on Madison Street and you showed me a giant Monarch butterfly and you chasing after the boys who smashed our pumpkin that you put on display on a metal barrel.
I remember the trips to Canada, and boating with other families in the summer, drinking sundrop and listening to Tammy Wynette and George Jones.
I remember camping in Dodgeville and your love of making (but not so much eating) pudgie pies. Thanks, by the way, for the pudgie pie irons I got after you died.
I remember you always remodeling the house -- the attic, front entry and the laundry room on Madison Street, the bar room in the 2nd Street House. I remember when you added on the laundry room on Madison Street, two little birds were displaced -- instead of abandoning them, you brought them in for us to care for and raise, and we did, and we released them, Crackers and Corky.
I remember you loved trading things -- mostly guns. I got my guitar that way, I still have it. I need to teach April and Louka how to play. You also got a huge aquarium trading too, and other stuff you didn't really need, but loved to trade.
I remember how you loved little Tiger, our pomeranian.

I remember you got me a 45 record, "Daddy don't you walk so fast" by Wayne Newton. I hadn't heard of it before you got it for me, but I loved it. I still have it.

"The love between the two of us was dying
and it got so bad I knew I had to leave
But halfway down that highway
when I turned around I saw
my little daughter running after me
I heard,
Daddy don't you walk so fast,
Daddy don't you walk so fast,
Daddy, slow down some
cause you're making me run,
Daddy don't you walk so fast.

Now it broke my heart to tell my little daughter
that her daddy had to run to catch a train
she had no way of knowing that I was leaving home for good.
I turned around and there she was again.

Daddy don't you walk so fast,
My darling cried,
Daddy don't you walk so fast,
Daddy, slow down some,
cause you're making me run,
Daddy don't you walk so fast."

Don't get me wrong, I do remember the bad times too, and there were a lot of really bad times, mostly for mom, but it is over. I choose to think about the good times and honor the good person in you.

Honor Thy Mother and Thy Father. I do. Happy Birthday Dad, Oct. 2, 1935- Dec. 2, 2002