Thursday, November 14, 2013

Thankful #14 - My Dad

I have quite a few favorite memories of my dad.

Standing on his feet while we danced around to cheesy 80's country music. 

Lying next to him reading books. 

His silly stories...like when we'd pass a falling rock sign and he'd tell the story of the Indian Brave Falling Rock and his search for his princess. 

His silly songs - like green gooey gobs of gorilla guts and me without my spoon. 

The way he helped me with all my school projects - a log cabin made from real wood. a pyramid made from sugar cubes. 

The playhouse he built me for me and my dolls. The rabbit cages he constructed when I decided to raise rabbits in 4H. 

And always, I remember my dad working. Construction for his career but always working at home too. yard work, building stuff...he was always busy. 

And we went on cool trips. I lamented no trips to Disneyland but now that I'm older, I know I got cooler things. Like trips to Mesa Verde where I got to sleep on the mesa near the ruins and to this day, I believe in ghosts. On that same trip, I got to helicopter to the bottom of the canyon with the crew. 

Or the trip to Black Canyon and the vineyards my dad helped with. We rode on the tractor singing Put Another Dime in the Jukebox over and over at the top of my lungs. 

Or the trip to White Sands Missile Range where I go to go where "normal" visitors weren't allowed. 

Our trips almost always correlated with my dad's work. 

To this day, I'm close to my dad. I talk to him 3-5 times a week, almost always early in the morning. My dad is one of the wisest men I know. A good sounding board. Supportive. Caring. We talk history. We talk life. There really isn't much we can't talk about. My dad is a lot like me - self reflective. Thinks things through. He's also very sentimental but a damn hard headed man too. 

My dad gave me my work ethic (although it's nowhere near his). He taught me to reflect. I get my love of history from him. And my love of poetry. Dad used to write - now that I think about it, I wonder if he still does. And I used to share my poetry with him, he'd critique it (usually kudos but he hated the stage where I went through big "poetic" words). My dad is crafty - carving, leather work, and wood burning. We discuss books and politics. 

Today, I'm thankful for my dad. 

No comments:

Post a Comment