My Dad
January 3rd, 2009 Tim
[I wrote this 12/30/08 and gave a copy to my dad 12-31-08 and he called me today to tell me to post it.]
(Nancy) My Dad turns 70 years old tomorrow. Yeah, I know, New Year’s Eve. It’s a bittersweet day to have your birthday. One of my favorite photos is of him and me. I’m about nine months old, wearing a big sunflower bib, being held by him. We’re looking into each other’s eyes and he’s got this pleased smirk on his face (my goal when I give him a present is always to see that pleased smirk) and he’s holding my hand like he’s going to lead me somewhere. His thumbnail is dirty, like he has the experience to show me something of importance in life.
My Dad grew up in tiny towns in northern Louisiana. His dad was the principal, his mom was the librarian and his mom’s best friend was one of his teachers (no pressure, right?). He played basketball and baseball (there was a rumor that he might have become a pro catcher, if he hadn’t “blown out” his right arm). He was also the guy with the slide rule and the fancy calculator. He became a chemical engineer at Louisiana Tech and OU, but not before meeting my mom on a road trip to Mexico, which he took with his college roommate. His roommate was dating (and later married) my mom’s best friend. The story goes that when my Dad first met her he had a hard time understanding her name, pronounced “Low [as in “allow”]-ra” in Spanish. He later learned that it was the English name Laura. My dad promptly switched from studying French to studying Spanish at Louisiana Tech.
They’ve now been married 46 years. I can always remember the number because their wedding was literally the day after my husband, Tim, was born. My dad has two sisters and my mom had six sisters (one died) and my parents have two daughters. That’s a lot of estrogen! He seems to like hanging out with our son, William. They say girls marry someone like their dad. I sure did. Tim is patient, has an irreverent sense of humor, likes football, baseball and music. I grew up listening to the Beatles, The Kingston Trio, The Beach Boys, The Eagles, Peter, Paul and Mary, Jethro Tull, Three Dog Night, Crosby, Stills and Nash. Dad once took me to a Moody Blues concert and another time we saw Bonnie Raitt perform in a tiny club in Houston, before she was nationally popular. He once called in to a local radio station and won two Queen albums (Day at the Races, Night at the Opera) and tickets to a showing of those Marx brothers movies (by the same names), sandwiched by a Queen video concert and he took me.
Unless you ask him a question, he is a man of few words. I remember when Tim and I told my parents that we would probably not have any more kids after Deanna and William, due to medical complications. My dad just said “well, you hit the jackpot with them.” But, if you ask a question, watch out! My dad taught me to always be reading at least one book. I could never beat him at Trivial Pursuit, from Sports to History to Geography, there wasn’t a bad category for him! I used to follow him around while he worked in the yard, just asking him stuff. I did grumble occasionally at the length of the replies. In one of his very few moments of raising his voice he said “you want me to explain the theory of relativity in one sentence!” I tried to remember not to grumble any more.
When we women quiet down enough, he (like his dad before him) usually has a joke or funny story at hand. He affectionately called his dad “Old Sport”, which I always thought was a great nickname for a man born with a handicapped arm and leg.
Except for playing rare golf or tennis games, my dad’s pre-retirement life was all about providing for his family. During the oil glut in Houston in the 80’s he lost his job (with two kids in college!). I had worked part time at a cardiologist’s office and we frequently disdained the pharmaceutical representatives who came to the office. At one point he was considering becoming a rep for a drug company and I begged him not to. He firmly told me that if that was necessary to take care of his family, that is what he would do.
My dad models respect for others, even if they have differing beliefs. He’s never harsh or ridiculing of anyone. I could tell you stories of his sacrifices (including giving up smoking a pipe, giving up living in Spain and giving up having a pet) for his family.
Though I’m not always good at showing it to him, I love my dad. Happy birthday, Dad!
“I say this because I know what I am planning for you,” says the LORD. “I have good plans for you, not plans to hurt you. I will give you hope and a good future.” (Jeremiah 29:11 New Century Version)
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