88 Years

Today is my father's 88th birthday. I could never have had a better father than he. Last Monday Daddy, Mom, June and I went out for lunch. Afterward while Mom and June were gathering their things, Daddy and I had a moment alone to talk.
"Are you mad at me for all the spankings I gave you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Daddy, you never spanked me. And I could probably count on one hand the ones Mom gave me. I worked hard to get those spankings and deserved every one of them."
Daddy laughed. "I never had to spank you. All I had to do was give you a look (he demonstrated) and you would do what you were supposed to do." I laughed.
It was true. I never wanted to disappoint my dad. The times he was most disappointed in me was about my grades. I was to get nothing less than a 'B'. But I did a couple of times. That's when we would hit our 'rough' spots.
I remember Daddy standing me on our picnic table in Battle Creek and singing, "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day." And I would sing with him.
I remember Daddy shoveling off the patio in the back yard in winter and filling it with water so we had our own little skating rink.
I remember Daddy walking on his hands across the back yard.
I remember the tears that streaked down his face after we left Sandy at Fort Custer the first time.
I remember Daddy standing in front of church and conducting meetings.
I remember going to the barber shop with Daddy, to the store with Daddy, to the dentist with Daddy, going for walks with Daddy.
I remember Daddy telling me that the boy who had broken my heart wasn't worthy of me.
I remember walking down the aisle on my daddy's arm and giving me to the next man in my life - my eternal companion.
I remember buying an old piano and my dad and uncle lifting that heavy, heavy (solid brass sound board) piano and bringing it from the truck into my parlor.
I remember hugging him and not wanting to let go when we moved to Utah.
I remember him being wherever I needed him to be in times of crisis. He (and Mom) saved my life, I'm sure of it.
I remember his beautiful almost black eyes, his warm smile, his strong arms.
I remember when Mom went through menopause and was having such a hard time that he tried to understand. He didn't blame her for hormonal imbalances. He stayed by her side and defended her.
I remember when Mom was in the hospital and no one knew what was wrong, how Daddy couldn't even speak because he was so worried. One day he left the hospital and went home and locked himself in their apartment. Bruce and I followed him because we were worried. After knocking on the door for quite a while and promising that it was just me, he opened the door. We sat on the couch together and I held him this time while he cried.
I remember how the weight of the world was on his shoulders when Sandy died. He said a child should never die before their parents.
I remember him in his white suit officiating in the temple.
I remember he and mom came home from their temple mission to help my younger brother. When I said something about Ted should be able to handle this on his own, he said, "Family is first."
And now I see him as the patriarch of the family. He is a little slow in his walk, his eyes aren't as clear as they once were and he can't hear very well, but he is all the things that I remember and much, much more.
I love him forever.

Counting Pennies

My sister and I go away for a few days a year. We've gone to Ann Arbor and we've gone to Frankenmuth. We have a great time talking, laughing, sometimes crying and shopping, shopping, shopping. We LOVE Birch Run near Frankenmuth.
I decided to start saving early so I could have a lot of money to play with. I save change. I have a cute piggy bank that matches my dishes, so that is where I put my change.
As I was counting it the other day, I remembered that I used to do the same thing with my dad when I was little.
I wasn't allowed to play in my parents bedroom. It was their space. But a couple of times a week I could go in. It was a big room that held their double bed, an armoir, a large dresser and my mom's vanity. The armoir was the place that all things saved were put - at least that's what I thought. Mom had her fur coat in there and at the bottom were mason jars full of pennies.
My dad would put his pennies in the jars through a slit in the lid of the canning jar.
Maybe every other month my dad and I would pull out the jars and count the pennies. He would sit on the bed and I would sit next to him with enough room between us to put piles of pennies. I would count out 10 pennies and put them in a stack. By the time we were done counting there were stacks of ten pennies all over the place. I remember once counting out $18.00 in pennies.
Eventually the pennies were put in the bank in my own account. But it wasn't the money. It was the time that I spent in my parents bedroom (that room that held so many secrets and wonders!) counting pennies with my daddy and having my mom close by. It was a family affair. I remember lots of smiles and giggles and lots and lots of talking with each other.