On June 9th, 2011, I sat still for a minute to write. It was the birthday of one of my best friends who has appeared in this blog before, but I decided to write a post for Father’s Day that was coming up in a few weeks. I had only written two blogs so far and didn't really know how this blogging thing would work out. The weekend before, I had been in Austin with Ryan and Jessica, and all of a sudden it looked like I was going to Ethiopia! I didn’t end up finishing or posting this Father's Day blog that year, and the next blog that was posted was the one sharing the plans for that trip to Africa. Was that yesterday, or years ago? If you have been reading my blog since then, or know my family, you know that while I was in Ethiopia Dad was diagnosed with cancer. This post has been on my desktop since. A few times I’ve gone back and read it, tweaked it, saved it and closed it. Sometimes laughed and sometimes cried over it, knowing each time I was still feeling a little too...whatever I felt that kept me from sharing it. But, today is Dad’s 65th Birthday and I feel like celebrating! I don't feel whatever, I'm just thankful. He will probably be a little annoyed (he's kind of a private guy) and pleased (hopefully) all at the same time. Maybe as you read this you will think of your dad, your step-dad, uncle, brother, husband or friend who has been a dad to you or is being a dad to someone you love. It's good to celebrate them, rather or not they sit beside you. It's good to think on these things. Phil. 4:8-9. Thanks for reading this for a minute as I celebrate mine.
P.S. Dad, This is your homemade birthday present. I don't knit.
He probably never even thought about being a dad someday. While he was riding Cushman’s, working on cars with his dad, learning to play ball, going to Coalton, OK where he was a grandson hearing the Italian accents of the immigrants, getting locked out of his grandpa’s living room once wrestling came on, and driving Uncle Sam’s old pickups while sitting on lawn chairs in the cab. As he was being a son, and a brother and a buddy living up at Wrangle Heights, he probably never thought of being a dad someday.
As he became a Barnsdall Panther playing baseball, basketball and playing football in the 1966 State Championship game; driving a '36 Ford, taking mom out on dates, throwing fireworks off of the roof of police station as the police drove up and down Main Street trying to find where they were coming from; and doing a lot of other things he was never going to allow his kids to do...he probably never even thought about being a dad someday.
He might have thought about being a dad the day he married mom and thought about their life together. As they moved to Ponca City to begin working for Conoco and build a life, he might have thought about being a dad, maybe a dad like his dad. But, even as he held his first born son Christopher Shawn and became a dad; he probably had no idea what all being a dad would take.
When I was born he had a five year old son, so he had an idea what being a dad would take: some patience, work, laughter and family, but he probably had no idea what being my dad would take. He would have to hold my hand a lot. Sometimes just to make me sit still. He had to wipe the red lipstick off my mouth when I was 4 and he told me to go get ready to run errands and I came out of the bathroom my version of ready. He had to spank me sometimes, mostly for sass-mouthing like when I told him “Ok, well now I hate you and momma both” after they told me I couldn’t go to my friend’s house 10 minutes before supper. He then had to come and make up with me because friends don’t stay mad at each other. He had to take turns with mom telling me bedtime stories about leprechauns and rainbows. He would quietly say “Haley just because your teeth are green, doesn’t mean you have to like leprechauns.” He had to endure me “making up songs” on the piano. He had to pick me up after school in whatever old car, Harley or truck was running. Sometimes I would strut to my ride, sometimes I would duck and dodge hoping no one would see me getting in or on. He had to give me the “that is enough” look, when I wasn’t catching on that enough was enough. He had to follow through with what he told me, because I was going to try to reason a way around it. I've always been a talker-outter. He had to teach me to drive a stick-shift, even after the first time when after grinding the gears so hard he didn’t say a word…he just opened the passenger side door, got out of the car and walked in the house. "Sooooo, are we not going to do this now?" As he taught me to check the oil in my car (I won't mention the Dodge Stratus here), and he figured out with mom how to pay for my college, and put up with some swings in my mood.
He probably never knew how good of a dad he was being as he would get up to go work his midnight shift, talk to our coaches, feed Captain Nicholas J. Midnight, and prioritize time in Barnsdall with family. He maybe didn’t realize that keeping the cars running, showing us right from wrong by example and learning patience would be part of the deal. Or, how much time would be required to take us to church, tell us no and tell us yes, go on a few vacations, go to ball games, teach us to shoot pool, like Westerns, and love our family. Probably like all parents he may have thought at some times his best wasn’t good enough. But, it was, Dad. Not perfect, but way beyond just enough…all the way to good. He probably never considered how much his daughter would love him, and how thankful I would be to have him as my dad. He probably never considered I would have a deeper trust in God, and thankfulness for His goodness because of the dad He gave me. He probably never thought as he was disciplining me, teaching me, loving me, that even as an adult I would still need to hold his hand sometimes…just so I can sit still. I’m certain when we were born he had no idea what all being a dad would take. He's still finding out, and he's still way beyond just enough...all the way to good...him, "and momma both."
We celebrated a little early a couple of weekends ago with Daddy's brother's Jim and Tom, aunts and cousins. We had Mexican food for lunch and strawberry cake, a few favorites that Granny Toots used to feed us. Dad doesn't have a mustache now, but he used to, and we played it up a little...
Happy Birthday Dad!
Love,
Haley
P.S. Dad, This is your homemade birthday present. I don't knit.
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| That's baby Dad in the middle wearing a diaper and leather zip up boots. That's how he rolled with Uncle Jim and cousin Joy. |
He probably never even thought about being a dad someday. While he was riding Cushman’s, working on cars with his dad, learning to play ball, going to Coalton, OK where he was a grandson hearing the Italian accents of the immigrants, getting locked out of his grandpa’s living room once wrestling came on, and driving Uncle Sam’s old pickups while sitting on lawn chairs in the cab. As he was being a son, and a brother and a buddy living up at Wrangle Heights, he probably never thought of being a dad someday.
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| Uncle Jim, Grandpa John and Dad. That's the ghost barn in back. I would tell that story, but it scares me. |
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| Wrangle Heights morning. Uncle Tom, Dad, neighbor friend, and Uncle Jim. |
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| The Cushman. |
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| Barnsdall, OK Homecoming '65-'66 school year. Mom and Dad are Tim and Glenda. |
He might have thought about being a dad the day he married mom and thought about their life together. As they moved to Ponca City to begin working for Conoco and build a life, he might have thought about being a dad, maybe a dad like his dad. But, even as he held his first born son Christopher Shawn and became a dad; he probably had no idea what all being a dad would take.
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| Motorcycle Mechanics. |
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| Wife and Son...and '36 Ford. The same one in his garage today. |
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| "Wait a minute! Let me pull up right here. Ok, take it." |
When I was born he had a five year old son, so he had an idea what being a dad would take: some patience, work, laughter and family, but he probably had no idea what being my dad would take. He would have to hold my hand a lot. Sometimes just to make me sit still. He had to wipe the red lipstick off my mouth when I was 4 and he told me to go get ready to run errands and I came out of the bathroom my version of ready. He had to spank me sometimes, mostly for sass-mouthing like when I told him “Ok, well now I hate you and momma both” after they told me I couldn’t go to my friend’s house 10 minutes before supper. He then had to come and make up with me because friends don’t stay mad at each other. He had to take turns with mom telling me bedtime stories about leprechauns and rainbows. He would quietly say “Haley just because your teeth are green, doesn’t mean you have to like leprechauns.” He had to endure me “making up songs” on the piano. He had to pick me up after school in whatever old car, Harley or truck was running. Sometimes I would strut to my ride, sometimes I would duck and dodge hoping no one would see me getting in or on. He had to give me the “that is enough” look, when I wasn’t catching on that enough was enough. He had to follow through with what he told me, because I was going to try to reason a way around it. I've always been a talker-outter. He had to teach me to drive a stick-shift, even after the first time when after grinding the gears so hard he didn’t say a word…he just opened the passenger side door, got out of the car and walked in the house. "Sooooo, are we not going to do this now?" As he taught me to check the oil in my car (I won't mention the Dodge Stratus here), and he figured out with mom how to pay for my college, and put up with some swings in my mood.
He probably never knew how good of a dad he was being as he would get up to go work his midnight shift, talk to our coaches, feed Captain Nicholas J. Midnight, and prioritize time in Barnsdall with family. He maybe didn’t realize that keeping the cars running, showing us right from wrong by example and learning patience would be part of the deal. Or, how much time would be required to take us to church, tell us no and tell us yes, go on a few vacations, go to ball games, teach us to shoot pool, like Westerns, and love our family. Probably like all parents he may have thought at some times his best wasn’t good enough. But, it was, Dad. Not perfect, but way beyond just enough…all the way to good. He probably never considered how much his daughter would love him, and how thankful I would be to have him as my dad. He probably never considered I would have a deeper trust in God, and thankfulness for His goodness because of the dad He gave me. He probably never thought as he was disciplining me, teaching me, loving me, that even as an adult I would still need to hold his hand sometimes…just so I can sit still. I’m certain when we were born he had no idea what all being a dad would take. He's still finding out, and he's still way beyond just enough...all the way to good...him, "and momma both."
We celebrated a little early a couple of weekends ago with Daddy's brother's Jim and Tom, aunts and cousins. We had Mexican food for lunch and strawberry cake, a few favorites that Granny Toots used to feed us. Dad doesn't have a mustache now, but he used to, and we played it up a little...
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| Jordi, Leigh, Katie and Chris |
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| Brenda and Stephanie |
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| I just wish they could let loose and have a good time. |
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| Shawn Bon Jovi. |
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| Me and Leigh |
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| Greg, Stephanie and Ian carrying on the red hair! :) |
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| Birdie makes even a mustache look pretty. |
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| Winner of Best Use Of Mustaches: Jagger McCloud. |
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| Caleb, or "Calup" as Granny Toots called him, Aunt Treva and Colton, my cousin Shannon's boys. They brought their own mustaches to the party, but still played along. |
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| Chris pulls this look off. |
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| Good Sports: Tim, Tom, Jim |
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| Incognito Scullys. Just missing Jimmy, Steely and Jet. |
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| In case you didn't recognize us. |
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| Opening a few presents. |
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| This is her 45th year celebrating his birthday as his wife. Cutey McCutersons. |
Happy Birthday Dad!
Love,
Haley
