My Dad

Daddy

This is the outline that I wrote and spoke at my father's service.

My brothers and I were lucky enough to have one amazing father. We adored our dad and we knew just how much we meant to him. We were right behind my mother……..and his dog.

He was a great Daddy. When we were children he would fashion the most wonderful toys out of whatever he had near, whether it be a thread spool, fishing line and a toy clown, or whether he was in violation of some law by heating plastic trash bags until they floated up, up and away through the neighborhood and having Arlington Police Department flooded with calls of UFO's.

We were the only kids in the neighborhood with full sized airplanes in our garage, and with a father that flew billionaires, rock stars, movie stars and presidents. To us Dad was larger than life, our hero of heroes, our protector, our teacher.

Dad taught us many things. He taught us not to air condition the neighborhood, he taught us that if you left your car in one place too long it would become one of his projects. And he taught us to fear the most dreaded of all beasts, the cockroach. Have you ever seen a 300 pound man run screaming through a house and into the yard because a cockroach dropped from the ceiling onto him? Well it's not something to be forgotten.

He taught us to fight for what we believe in. Most of all he taught us acceptance and that all people were created equal, no man was above another. He respected everyone except those, of course, that somewhere along the way had forgotten that respect had to be earned, for them he had no tolerance.

There were a few other things that dad wouldn't tolerate: the slamming of car doors, and any unknown squeaking noise in a vehicle would mean a stop on the shoulder of the road tearing apart the car, one time only to find the squeaking toy monkey my brother had strategically placed.

Something else that Dad wouldn't tolerate was preaching in any form. My family and I, as well as others, had continually prayed for his salvation. When it looked like it would never happen, my mother died tragically. My father was broken, he had given up.

Suddenly his orderly world no longer made sense. People all over the country were praying for my dad, my very logical, intellectual father. People that he had never met were praying for him, we were praying for him.

The day before he died, my year old grandson fell down the stairs at my house.

The first scans showed bleeding in the brain, a skull fracture, a possible broken leg and a lacerated tongue. My daughter called my dad crying. She didn't know what to do. My dad told God didn't hurt her baby and not to be angry with Him.

He told her to do what she had told him hundreds of times before: pray and have faith in God.

Subsequent scans showed no skull fracture, no bleeding in the brain and no broken leg. Josiah only had a lacerated tongue. I called Dad to tell him the news and the doctors had no explanation for the conflicting scans. My dad simply said "I do." Daddy died that night.

I now feel our prayers have been answered, I will see my hero of heroes, my protector, my teacher, and my daddy again.

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Two Little Words

I find it odd that two little words changed my life forever. Oh there were more words spoken at that time, but none as powerful as those words consisting of just 15 letters. They were about to impact my life in ways I could have never imagined.

As I sat in the doctor's waiting room I surveyed the photographs she had chosen for her walls. They were black and white photographs of people of all ages. Some were happy, some were not. Some were on the beach and some lying in the grass. If you've ever watched the Sopranos you know what I'm about to say. Just as Tony did, I looked at each picture carefully trying to find the hidden meaning the psychiatrist was trying to convey with each choice. Were there hidden meanings, or was I just being paranoid from sitting in this office?

I flipped through magazines while wondering whether to stay or to run. I knew that this meeting could provide me with life changing information and I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with it. On the other hand I was curious. Was I my own enemy? Did I have an enemy? Did it have a name?

My life has been anything but calm. From my early days I remember the turmoil as it sometimes surrounded me, pulling into its depths. At the time I wondered why these tumultuous times wouldn't release their grips on me, now I wonder if I was I that couldn't release my grip on them. It's strangely funny how introspective I became waiting for the verdict.

In my primary care doctor's office, I chat with the staff, look at magazines, play Sudoku on my iPhone and look forward to seeing the doctor that we have become friends with. This time was different. I was nervous. I was a little bit afraid and I was certain. I was certain of the verdict she would issue and it would be a life sentence.

Within minutes, that seemed like hours, the door opened and the doctor appeared. She was about my age, 45 or so, attractive, tall and thin. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders and flipped up slightly on the ends. She was casually dressed in black pants and a red long sleeve shirt. She didn't wear much makeup, but she didn't need it, her big blue eyes captured my attention at once as I'm sure they did with everyone that saw her. She most definitely didn't fit my stereotypical image of a psychiatrist.

Her voice was soft and calm as she called me into her office and introduced herself. Her name was Linda and she had been referred by my regular therapist, another Linda. Her office was done in neutral colors, but stylish with its classic furniture. Though not small, it was cozy and comfortable. There was no couch, no butterfly net and no straight jackets. There were shelves filled with books, kids' toys and boxes of tissues.

I looked at the chairs trying to decide which one to choose and if that might mean anything in the evaluation. I mean, if chose the chair on the left am I psychotic, if I chose the chair on the right was I a hypochondriac? I decided to choose paranoid and took the chair in the middle.

I sat down scrutinizing my posture. How were my hands? Was I sending off uncooperative body language, or was I too eager for a diagnosis, making it invalid? I thought I'd better calm down before she called in the men with the nets, who I was sure were in the other room. I could feel anxiety-induced beads of sweat forming at my hairline. They were beginning to drip down my neck and to the small of my back. I needed to calm down before I sealed my own fate, a fate worse than death, the fate of being admitted to the Adventist "Behavioral Center" otherwise known as the Cuckoo's Nest.

She began with asking me the usual questions about childhood, parents, siblings and then the more difficult ones regarding present experiences and traumas. The entire meeting took almost three hours. As she spoke, I became much more comfortable with her. I calmed considerably and stopped looking for hidden syringes and various other torture devices.

She focused on my shopping, my forgetfulness, irritability, depression and mood related issues over all. In the third hour of the evaluation she turned at her waist, put her notepad down on her walnut desk. She then turned back toward me, leaned forward, folded her hands and uttered the life changing words: Bipolar Disorder. I believe her exact words were "I feel comfortable with the diagnosis of bipolar disorder II."

Well I'm glad someone's comfortable, but it certainly wasn't me. I was thinking of that nice big check I had just written her and thinking "No, shit you're comfortable!"

Bipolar Disorder II, not the classic disorder everyone associates with manic-depression. There are no delusions, no psychotic behavior, none of the serious things usually associated with the condition. But there is shopping, irritability, severe depression, mood swings and all that shit. Wow, I'm feeling more comfortable every second.

However the more I think about it, the more I agree with the diagnosis. When you know your enemy, you can fight them offensively. I like that my enemy has a name and it's not Diva. It's going to be a challenge, but really I'm the same person I've always been, just now I know why things get so skewed sometimes and why my moods can fall so quickly. I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I am the same person, I'll keep the good and work on the bad. And now you'll know when I disappear for awhile or am quiet, it's not you, it's me and I will be ok. Yeah, I think I'm getting more comfortable every day.

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Isaiah

The sun shines brightly today
No clouds, no wind
But the rain is falling and the mood is heavy
I hear him cry and my heart breaks
My tears fall freely, as they did all the months of his life
He's holding my kisses and the angel I placed in his small lifeless hand
He is peaceful now, but we are left with the pain of his demise
When he left he took my heart, my joy and my life
How I want him back just one more day
To tell him I love him, to kiss him and to smell him
Before handing him back into the safe arms of his Creator

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Just one of those days

Today was one of those days that I seemed to have a spurt of very un-diva like behavior. I worked in the yard for hours and cut down all of the plants that had gotten out of control. I had most of the huge yard done and then it happened.

I was cutting back this huge lavender plant when the hedge clippers went dead. Holy, freaking crap. I knew what it was before I put the trimmers down; I had cut the extension cord in half with the trimmers. I was going to die a long and painful death at the hands of my husband and a half of an extension cord.

That experience reminded me of another one several years earlier. When we built this house we only had 5 kids, but had enough foresight to install two dishwashers in the main kitchen. They worked well for years before being beaten to death by five gorilla-like, door slamming, plate smashing kids.
I went out the the appliance store and purchased two very expensive, high-end dishwashers figuring that the more money I spent, the more weeks I would gain in the long run, yes weeks not years.
The dishwashers arrived and the plumber was backed up for weeks. I wasn't going to wait. Over the years I've repaired electrical problems, installed disposals, wired for electrical switches, and fixed the garage door openers, so I figured I could handle installing a dishwasher or two.
I helped the kids bring the first of the dishwashers upstairs and removed it from it's box. I disconnected the first dishwasher, well mostly. We got to the water line and I asked one of my, to remain nameless, sons to turn off the water line that was located under the sink. That's where I made my first crucial mistake, I forgot to tell him that there were two cut off switches, one for the inside water and the other for the outside deck water. Yeah, you guessed it, he turned off the wrong line.
Just as I turned the wrench to disconnect the line water began to spray everywhere. The water line was hissing and dancing like a cobra being mesmerized by it's handler, except this was more dangerous than the cobra.
As I tried to catch the jumping water line I screamed to Cole, whoops I guess I did name him, to turn off the right line. He couldn't find it. I was trying to crimp the line and it wouldn't happen. Then I was trying to hold my finger over the end ocf the line that was speaying water at 80 psi. Not sure if you've ever tried that, but it doesn't work.
I screamed for someone to go turn off the water line out in the front year, not remembering that one was only for the sprinkler system and the whole shut-off was downstairs, under the house. There was no EFFIN way I was calling Jeff, he couldn't know that gallons of water were spraying under out beautiful maple hardwood floor.
"Cole, go get the effin neighbor!", "Karli, Michael and Nikki, get some GD Effin towels!" and then I had to admit defeat and told Joshua to effin call his effin father and aske where the GD water line was.
The one I needed was under the sink, 18 inches from me. It was behind a bottle of Cascade detergent. Finally Karli, or someone, turned off the water. I was drenched, my hair looked like a wet llama and my makeup was running down my face. I turned to see the shocked faces of my kids, all trying not to laugh.
Well their composure didn't last long. They began to howl like rabid hyenas. I could have shot everyone of them before I began to laugh as well. Cole was laughing harder than I had ever seen him.
"Mom, we should have had this on tape, except they couldn't air it on TV. It was Cole BLEEPING get the BLEEP BLEEP water turned BLEEPING off. BLEEP BLEEP-it. Karli get the BLEEPING towels BLEEPING up here BLEEPING now. BLEEEEEEP, BLEEPING BLEEEEEEEEP!! You BLEEPING kids better not BLEEPING tell your BLEEPING father BLEEP BLEEP-it!"
Ok, so I learned my lesson, directions don't tell you everything and always call someone that knows better. Or better yet, suck it up, bribe the kids and pay the plumber overtime to get him in sooner.

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Things I learned from my Dad

Never put a clothes pin on a cat's tail.
Willie Nelson is cool.
Respect everyone except for the purposely stupid or arrogant.
A 1963 Austin Healy is one hot car.
Ponies can never be trusted.
Cockroaches are Satan in bug form.
If a junebug gets in your ear, hold a flashlight up to your ear canal and the bug will painfully claw his way out, but hey....he's out
It's "Hey!" NOT ""Hay!" roflmfao!
Texas is a state of mind as is New Orleans
Oysters are fantastic!
How to shoot the legs off of a wasp with a pellet gun
How to get the wasp to be still long enough to shoot his legs off
Never strike a match near a haystack that your grandfather is standing on
If you have to share a bottle of soda with your brother, give him the top half, the bottom half has more.
Road trips are a blast.
Oreos and beer do not mix well digestively
Escargot feels like a cat's tongue
Never speak when a parent is on the phone, or breathe for that matter.
You can set a house on fire by trying to make a hot air balloon out of a blow torch and a black trash bag
You're only as good as your dog thinks you are
Fishing is not as much about catching as it is about catching up
Modulators always should be put on the head and tail lights of a motorcycle
A rolled up magazine works well as a splint in an emergency
Family is defined by those you love, not by blood
Cat hair sticks to your tongue
My dad did not like cats and liked messing with the kids
You can make a toy out of anything
Never ask a horse, "Why such a long face?"
So I said to this emu......
How to change the oil in my car
That he loved me
Learn to judge your parents' moods
Don't listen when he tells you to pinch your naked aunt
You can be more scary and unsettling by being quiet than by screaming
A great punishment will give the parents a weed-free yard
A good parent will listen
If you ever put a cat in a bag, don't let go
Do, don't try
That he loved my grandson enough to trade his life for Josiah's
And that I loved him more than he ever knew.

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Beautiful Boy

She watched intently as the skinny little boy with the curly blonde hair played on the rooftop terrace of the hospital. His mother, her daughter, was in surgery again for the fourth time in a little over a year. She knew that Beautiful Boy was worried and gazed at him with the concern of a grandmother. He was so handsome with his enchanting smile and quick wit, but she worried about what was hidden behind those smiling brown eyes. Rays of the soft autumn sunshine that fell on his sweet face made her think that God indeed had special plans for this young child. He watched with a knowing look as the scarlet and tangerine colored leaves fell from their homes on the stately maple trees that were planted on the manicured grounds of the hospital. They gracefully floated down, gliding with the breeze and coming to rest around the life giving roots of those trees. Soon they would decompose and the cycle of life would begin once more. Beautiful Boy was bright enough to know that all things must come to an end; he just prayed that this wasn't the time that God would call his mother home.
He had endured much loss in his eight years, he deserved a break. The angels took his baby brother, Isaiah, home just 12 weeks after he had been born on the second floor of this very hospital. Two years later his baby brother Josiah was born three months early. Everyone was afraid of angels also coming for this baby, but they didn't. Josiah came home three months later healthy and thriving. During this time Beautiful Boy had to endure the death of his great grandmother, although to him she was more of a grandmother, especially since she was about the age of his friends' grandmothers. Beautiful Boy had to watch the grief of his mom and her mom, a grief that seemed to never end and left them lost in a hazy fog. He took what he had witnessed and hid it deep in his heart behind barriers of smile and sparkling eyes.
Then came the Baby Diva, also born three months early. Beautiful Boy was frightened once again, more now that he was older. He still wasn't old enough to put into words what he felt, but you could see it in his soft brown eyes. Several weeks later the family got the terrible news that his mom's Papa Airplane had died of a broken heart at the loss of his wife the year before. Beautiful Boy's eyes now carried a deeper sadness that was hidden behind the twinkle he always had and the ever present smile on that handsome dimpled face. But a grandmother can see these things and worried about him.
She continued to watch him take in God's world that perfect fall day. The dormant Mt Hood was to the east. Snow was beginning to cover its picturesque peaks. He watched the birds flying in and out of the scarlet and orange trees. He thought and wondered about not only his mommy, but about life itself and just how fragile it is. Beautiful Boy had learned lessons that many adults take decades to learn and he knew that it wasn't over yet.

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The Cruise

The daily notes in the cruise newsletter simply said “Hilarious Adult Game Show”. We weren’t really sure what to expect but went anyway, after all we’d be in the audience, no problem. We got to the theater about a half hour early and found a great seat. The theater was in the shape of a rectangle with the stage area on one end and the other three sides were filled with seats.
While we waited for the theater to fill we watched the big screen and the “kiss me” shots that would come up. We’ve never been chosen for one of those kiss me spots at any event we’ve ever been to. That night we were chosen. Looking back I should have taken it as an omen.
Soon the theater was filled and the show began. The cruise director came out and started the ball rolling by telling us that most of us wouldn’t have a clue as to what to expect and mumbled something about not being responsible for the therapy for any child left in the theater. That would have been a clue for us to exit the theater, but did we take it? No way. We stayed.
We were told that this would be an “adult scavenger hunt”. Ok, I thought, it couldn’t be so bad. The audience was divided up into about 12 teams and two people from each team were chosen, or volunteered, to be team leaders. Our team leaders were a little, cute blonde girl about 20 yrs old and a college guy about 23 or so.
The concept was simple and seemed ok, the cruise director would ask for an object and the team had to find the object(s) and get them to the team leader so that they could then take them to the cruise director. Points would be awarded and prizes were to be given to the leaders of the winning team.
I’m sure that the first objects to be found were chosen to put us all at ease: a bar bill, foreign currency, a girl’s tattoo with wings, nothing too bad. We still felt pretty comfortable with the whole thing. Even when he asked for false teeth out of their owner’s mouth, we couldn’t foresee getting sucked into this vortex. You should have seen that cute little girl grab those saliva covered teeth that dripped all the way to center stage. She wanted the points so badly and didn’t want to offend the mouth that offered them up. Seriously though, little blondie was about to spew.
Then things started to get more interesting. He asked for the largest bra, it was a 44DD (Jeff and I have this argument going on regarding this, which is larger a 44DD or a 36E? He told me that I would have won with the 36E, but I’m thinking that the 44 DD would have made me look like a kindergartener!). Then the director asked for a thong. Girls were running down in herds to show him their underwear. There were butts flashing everywhere, girls pushing other girls out of the way, panties in hand and then he held up a flip flop shoe and said that everyone must have mis -understood, he only wanted a shoe!
Next the team leaders were asked to find three men’s belts not being worn. Jeff stood up and popped that belt off in record time. Man, he really seemed to be getting into the spirit of the evening. Next the cruise director asked for three pairs of men’s pants not being worn. Before I could turn to look I felt the “swoosh” of khaki colored silk pants by my head. I turned in time to see my husband, along with the man on my other side, happily running to that cute little blonde, pants in hand. I don’t think they even gave a second’s thought about what kind of underwear, or lack of, that they had been wearing that night.
Cute little blonde college girl took all of the pants to the cruise director. He awarded points to the various team leaders and then had them lay the pants in a pile in the center of the stage. It was then that he directed the pants’ owners to come down and retrieve them. You would have thought that Jeff would have considered it. No, he didn’t. He bounded down those stairs to the middle of the stage to claim his khakis.
Ok, so if this was the worst of it, no big deal. But somehow I knew that this wouldn’t be the end. And I was correct. Ole Cruise director then asked for man carrying an empty purse, wearing lipstick and wearing a bra they way it was meant to be worn. OMG! I could feel Jeff ripping off his shirt and knew that he was coming after my bra. I gave it to him, at least it wasn’t me going into the center of the stage! In what seemed like one fluid motion, his shirt was off, my bra was on and he had lipstick on his mouth and he was running faster than any 58 year old man should be allowed to.
The theater roared with laughter. I was laughing so hard that I was crying. My eyes burned as my makeup ran into them. I couldn’t catch my breath and the woman next to me kept asking “Is THAT your husband?” Then I see Jeff in the line having to “walk the runway like a super model”! Oh Mother of God! I can’t take much more of this. I couldn’t breathe, the audience was howling and my husband was strutting his stuff in front of the entire ship. It was bad enough when he was romping around in HIS underwear, but now he was in mine!
I composed myself enough to look up and see him do his “sexy” little walk followed by his “sexy” little dance and then exit the stage, he was smiling all the way. I was going to have to leave the theater with a bag on my head and by the side of someone that sat fully composed, and dressed, throughout the show.
Jeff made it back to his seat, gave me back my bra and dressed himself. He once again looked respectable. Ok, it wasn’t so bad. I’ll leave the theater with him, after all no one knew us. We gathered up all of our belongings and left with the crowd. As soon as we got out in front of the theater we saw the family that we had been having dinner with each night. Surely they hadn’t been in the theater and surely they didn’t see my husband prancing around like some sort of super model on growth hormone.
One look at their faces as they burst into laughter told me that they had seen every strut, every prance and every dance move he made. All I could do was laugh as I watched tears stream down their cheeks while talking about Jeff. He had fun, he gave us all a great laugh, and most of all he gave us all a memory that will always bring a smile to our faces. Especially mine as I think of everyone he knows watching him strut away on YouTube!

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