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HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!
THIS IS A COLLECTION OF STORIES AND MEMORIES FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY.
LOVE, THE GIRLS
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star How I wonder what you are...
Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle twinkle little star How I wonder what you are...
I was about four, I think. Old enough to remember but young enough that a magic surrounds the memory. It was a cool, dewy, summer night in Quebec. Late for me to be up because it was dark enough that the stars were out and the summer sun sets late in those far north woods. What made it most magical of all was that I was with my Dad, the person I liked most in all the world.
We were on the front steps of the old Main Lodge. A front step that was a large flat stone with one smaller stone step which hit up against the front entrance of our old Main Lodge. A perfect bench for a four year old. That front step was only used for sitting because the door it lead to did not actually open. It had sunk into the bottom rotten log of that most ancient of dwellings before I was born. Had we found a way to open it, I believe the whole main room would have collapsed, being the strongest upright along the west wall at that point in time. Therefore, whenever a visitor who was not familiar with that building knocked upon the useless front door, one would have to gesture to them from the adjacent window to come to the screen porch entrance on the south end of the cabin.
However, that front stone step was used regularly by our family to look at the lake. The big flat stone was black speckled granite, it absorbed the heat of the summer sun nicely. Warmth emanated from the rock many hours after the sun went down which is how it was on this night as I sat beside Dad, our backs against the splintery, cedar stained, screen door.
There before us lay the lake, not still, but calm enough to clearly reflect the many stars in the navy sky above. With both sky and water covered with stars, it was natural that Dad began to hum “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”.
I was already familiar with this little nursery rhyme, nevertheless, in that setting, it seemed new and I paid closer attention to it. It was made special because my Dad was singing it just with me.
I began to sing too. As long as Dad sang with me, I could remember the words, but then he began to drop off to let me sing alone. I would get a few words in and then would forget what came next. Whenever I forgot, Dad would resume singing and we’d end the song together. Then, wanting to be sure I remembered the whole thing, I’d start again. We did this many times. The middle part of the rhyme kept getting confused on my tongue and I would look to my Dad to help me remember. He would smile and join in. He seemed to be enjoying the moment as much as I did which made me feel very happy. I loved my dad so much and I knew he loved me too.
That was a long time ago. Nevertheless, that song and those stars may be clearer in my mind now than they actually were on that night; so special was that moment to me.
Thanks Dad ! I love you! Love, April
Trip to the Payette
At the conclusion of my freshman year at BYU I had a few weeks of down time before resuming my summer job at the American Fork pool. Dad could see I had absolutely nothing to do so he invited me to come to Boise with him and kayak the Payette River.
I excitedly accepted and the next day we made the long drive to Boise spending the first night in the back of the truck in a vacant field. I hung out at a greenway near the Boise River all morning and when Dad finished working we headed up to the river. We were running the milder Main section of the Payette because I didn’t know how to roll a kayak. As we traveled I watched the river closely. The water was clear with beautiful beaches and there didn’t seem to be too many rapids nor did the ones I saw cause me too much anxiety. At length we arrived at the put in just below the bridge where the North Fork and the South Fork come together to form the Main.
We proceeded to dress in our warmest gear and Dad gave me some nice paddling gloves, the kind that have the comfortable pre-curled fingers that sit so nicely around a paddle. We ran the first few rap- ids well and I felt good. It is always exhilarating to be on the water never knowing what is around the next bend. Around one of the bends there is a sizable rapid and I got through the first and most difficult part fine. Dad kept a close eye on me but toward the end I got flipped and found myself upside down in very cold water. Well, every good non-rolling kayak- er knows just what to do in this situation. I being one of them immediately went for the pull cord on my skirt to release myself from the boat. I confidently reached up but strangely I couldn’t feel anything.
“Why couldn’t I feel the cord,” I wondered? I felt around some more, nothing. I then realized I was wearing those nice kayaking gloves with the pre- curled fingers. I couldn‘t feel or grip anything! It was right about then I wished I had a plan B. What is plan B for upside down, can’t roll, and can’t pull the skirt?
Questions starting forming in my mind, “How long I could hold my breath?” Not that long. “How long until Dad could get to my boat and help me get back over?” Too long.
I was starting to panic. Suddenly plan B be- came very clear. I pushed on the sides of the boat as
hard as I could. The skirt easily popped off and I swam out from under the boat to enjoy a fresh breath of air.
Just then Dad looked back. “Hey, you flipped!”
“Yeah,” I said, “I think I almost died. I was under for a long time. I couldn’t find the pull cord with these gloves on.”
Dad cheerfully replied, “Na, you didn’t almost die. I just barely looked at you and you were up. You couldn’t have been under for more than 30 seconds. It just seems long when you are trapped under water.”
“Yes it does,” I agreed.
I learned three lessons that afternoon: kayaking is fun, being under water trapped seems endless, and I will never wear a pair of pre-curled finger gloves again.
After we finished the section we pulled over to a nice sand bar. We had to get back to our vehicle so Dad told me to hike up to the road and put my thumb out.
“People will stop quickly for a young girl”, he said. So trusting Dad knew what he was doing I went out to the road, thumb up. Sure enough, the first car passing by stopped. As they pulled up Dad emerged from the bushes and jumped in the surprised driver’s car and said, “Wait with the boats Babe, I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
True enough in thirty minutes we were loading boats, changing clothes, and heading somewhere to find dinner. Dad smiled as we pulled into a place, put the car in park, and said, “Don’t tell your mother.” I then realized he was taking me to my first bar. But seeing as we only got dinner and no specialty drinks I don’t think he’ll mind if she finds out now.
That night we drove back to Boise and got a hotel. Dad decided that the next few days would be pretty dull for me so in the morning he put me on a plane back to Utah.
Thanks Dad for always including me on your ad- ventures. It has always been my privilege to be your shadow. Happy birthday! Life has been joyful for me because of you.
I love you! Jenny
Sauna Time with Dad
“Dad, are you ready yet?” I ask in desperation as I look up at him with wide pleading eyes.
“Not yet, babe. Count to fifty and we can go.” I jump down from the lower bench to the wet cement floor and put my face against the crack in the sauna door, trying to breathe in the cool air. “One, two, three...” I begin counting as I try to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach and my lightheadedness. Dad throws one more cup of water on the stove and as heat and steam fill the room, he starts doing pushups with his feet on the lower bench and his hands on the upper. I can hear his quick bursts of breath and see his triceps move up and down with each pushup. I hate the hot feeling in my belly, but I won’t leave early. I want to be with Dad, and jumping in the lake by myself is scary!
“Forty-nine, fifty!” I triumphantly yell and jump up from my crouch against the door.
“Ok. Let’s go” Dad says. He grabs the empty water bucket and we burst through the door. My lungs fill with the cold June night air as my bare feet hit the damp grass. We’re off and running! It’s a race to see who can get to the lake first and a race to see if I can make it with enough warmth left in my body to warrant a jump into the freezing water. My little six- year-old legs move quickly as I hop along, avoiding the few roots and imbedded rocks that I know so well scattered throughout the grass. Dad is right in front of me, jogging rhythmically with a concentrated look on his face. He beats me to the walkway and steps onto the wood first.
“Thump, Thump.” His footsteps are loud against the still night and as I reach the walkway after him my softer steps join with his, “Thump, thump, Thump, thump.” We run down the walkway together until we reach the first dock. Dad sets down the water bucket and dives in. He takes one stroke and reaches the far dock, pulling himself up on the step. I run across the middle walkway until I meet him on the other side and hold my arms up to him.
“Here we go.” Dad says as he grabs my wrists and lowers me into the water. The shock of the cold lake doesn’t really hit me until Dad sets me back on the dock and I feel my head start to pound.
“Brrrrr!” I shriek as I jump up and down, trying to relieve the ache in my feet, chest, and head. Dad dives in the lake again and then joins me on the dock, he’s jumping up and down too and moving his arms across his body like a runner warming up for a race. After the initial shock has worn off, we stop our frantic jumping and look out at the calm, dark lake for a moment. There is a thin line of pale blue light left above the black hillside across the lake and Venus is shining vividly—the first bright object in the night sky. Bats are swooping above us, snacking on mosquitoes, and ripples appear on the water’s surface where fish are rising to gulp down unsuspecting bugs. Dad and I don’t say anything; we just enjoy our tingling skin and the quiet scene that accompanies dusk.
“Do you want to go in the lake again?” Dad asks.
“No way!” I reply. I didn’t even want to go in the freezing lake the first time, but that wasn’t an option. I had to wash the sweat off, and Dad might think I was a wimp if I didn’t.
“Let’s go back to the sauna.” I suggest, as I start skipping back across the walkway. Dad grabs the bucket, fills it up with water, and we’re off again. Jogging back to the sauna for another round.
It was so fun to take sauna runs with Dad that I always wanted it to last as long as possible. Even if it meant a hot belly followed by a freezing head!
Happy 60th Birthday, Dad. I love you! Katie
9:00, An Hour Past Your Bedtime
According to most everyone, most everywhere, there are 365 days in a year. And one can rightly fig- ure, there are 365 nights in a year too. With that many nights in a year, there is a lot of time spent by parents trying to get their kids to go to bed for the night.
I was like most any other kid and didn’t like going to bed. Katie and I would try all kinds of tricks to stay up later than we were supposed to. We always thought we were being reeeal sneaky, but realize now that Mom was sitting in her bed, covers pulled over her legs, reading a book while we were next door wearing ourselves out. All of which she was very aware of.
The trouble with going to bed was that it did have its up sides, it’s just that I never wanted to do the sleeping part. What I did like about going to bed was getting tucked in.
The most common tucking in was the Orem Mash Up. Katie and I would have to be told at least a couple times to stop goofing around and go to sleep. We weren’t tricking anyone with our secret plots in our room. (How could they always tell we were still awake? How?) I’d get tucked in and after one or two more requests for a drink of water, I’d finally snuggle in and fall asleep to the sound of the M*A*S*H theme song playing from Mom and Dad’s TV. If we were really lucky we’d hear the Cheers theme song too.
Then there was the Canadian Conundrum. Leaving the warmth of the fireside in Mom and Dad’s room to run back over the slippery, cold floors to our room was always a tricky transition. On the one hand, we never ever ever wanted to leave the warm fire for our cold beds. But on the other hand, Dad would probably tell us a story, and it might even be Sam McGee.
Sam McGee was my favorite. I loved when Dad would stick around after helping us put our blankets inside our sleeping bags, zip us up tight, and tell us to “Move your legs real fast! Keep ‘em movin!” to warm up the bags. Then, by the light of the kerosene lamp, he’d start right in.
“There are strange things done in the midnight sun, by the men who moil for gold...”
It didn’t matter how many times I’d heard it, I reveled in every line.
“The arctic trails have their secret tales, that would make your blood run cold...”
An unconventional story to tell your five little girls, but Dad was so good at it. And the punch line never got
old.
“And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm In the heart of the furnace roar. He wore a smile you could see a mile, and said “Please shut that door...” Dad would recite the poem hardly missing a beat.
He was so good, in fact, that I never realized how many stanzas he was actually leaving out. Maybe he never knew how many he was leaving out either. Or maybe he just really wanted to get back to that fire. Can’t say I’d blame him.
Then there was the night that I will dub The Swirly Swasey. We were camped out near Swasey’s rapid and I woke up to the wind ripping down the canyon, tearing through our camp. I was absolutely convinced it was nothing less than a tornado and Katie and I were about to be picked up and go the way of Dorothy and Toto. We were lying there wide eyed and terrified with the wind smashing the tent flat on top of us.
What a relief it was to hear Dad’s voice outside our tent asking if we were okay. He peeked in to make sure that we were still wrapped up tight and assured us that we just needed to hunker down and we’d be fine. It was still a long night, but with Dad’s promise that we’d be fine, it wasn’t near as terrifying.
I’ve now successfully slept through approximately 9,885 nights. I don’t get tucked in near as often as I used to. (And I even live at home! Bum deal.) But I love all the memories of being looked after and taken care of. Thanks Dad, for watching our for us, and making life so fun.
Happy happy 60th! I love you, Michelle
A Sticky Situation
As a kindergartner, I was lucky enough to take a week off of school for a business trip with my Dad. We were headed to Wyoming and I could hardly wait. I went to work with my Dad during the day and because we were on the road, we stayed in a different hotel each night.
Every evening of the trip, Dad called home to talk to Mom once we’d arrived at our hotel. I always liked getting to the hotel and seeing what our room would be like. I was especially excited when one night, our room was furnished with a mini-refrigerator. It was located beneath the sink, the perfect height for my 5 year old self. Intrigued, I opened the door to the refrigerator. Inside the refrigerator was a mini-freezer. I had a fleeting thought that maybe I shouldn’t be playing with it. But, Dad was talking to Mom on the phone and would never notice–that thought wasn’t as fleeting.
The freezer opened easily. Inside, perfectly frosted crystals had formed on the inner walls. They looked delicious. “I will just scrape off a little bit and Dad will never know,” I thought to myself. Being as quiet as I could, I touched my pointer finger to the ice crystals and tried to scrape. My finger didn’t move! It was frozen to the inside of the freezer. I tried to pull my finger from the freezer but it hurt too bad! What was I to do? The longer it stayed glued to the ice the more it hurt. In a panic I called out, “Dad, DAD, DAAAAD!!!”
“Hold on, Pat.” I heard Dad say from the other side of the room. Dad ran over to assess the situation. There I sat, in peril, with my hand stuck inside the freezer.
“My finger is stuck and it hurts really bad!” I yelled in terror. Dad was always good at thinking on his feet in the most stressful of situations. He’d been in a few, but this was most certainly in his top five. The fate of my pointer finger was in his hands, but I knew I could count on him. He grabbed a complimentary hotel cup from the counter, filled it with tap water and poured it onto my frozen finger. Within seconds my finger was free from the freezer. Dad had saved the day.
Our eyes met and Dad said with a laugh, “Were you trying to eat the ice, babe?”
I looked down at my finger, where a nice blister had formed.
“Kinda.” I responded sheepishly.
Dad patted my shoulder and walked back to the phone where mom was on the line. Had she really been waiting all this time? I guess what seemed like forever had all happened in a matter of seconds.
“Pat? Are you still there? Becky was just trying to eat the ice off the sides of the freezer and got her finger stuck.” he chuckled.
Dad really was good in stressful situations. This one didn’t even seem to phase him! In fact, it almost seemed to humor him.
Later that evening, when he was off the phone, Dad inspected my freezer burn blister. He sat me on his lap, covered it with bandaids, and gave it a kiss. It felt better already.
Thank goodness for a Dad who always knows what to do.
I love you, Dad! Happy 60th! Becky
