Have a Happy Day, Pops

Sunday, June 17, 2007
It's Father's Day today. As such, I'm giving a shout out to my pop. By the way, he absolutely HATES being called Pop, Pops, Papa, Pappy, or Pa. Must be something about the letter "P" that bugs him.... The fact that I'm using it in the title and the second sentence is not a slam of him or to be disrespectful; I just think it's funny.

My dad turns 61 next month. How on earth did he get so old? I remember when HIS father was that age... yikes. We won't say anything about how old that makes me feel. Looking at the picture of him on the right (one of only two digital/scanned shots I have of him), I can see that he's starting to look his age. And how much more he looks like his father with each passing year.

The men in his family, which includes and older and younger brother, and his father, all look identical. Picture varying degrees of age and thinness of the picture above and you've got a family photo. You can also see where I get my fabulous cheekbones (or are they just chubby?) from. While my grandfather passed away a few years ago, I still remember visiting and noticing how similar they all were. Unlike my grandfather though, my dad does not (yet) clean his ears with a pairing knife or wear his shirts inside out (grampie used to put them on the way they were left when he took them off the night before). Also, what little hair he has left (something else they all have in common), has not yet gone a brilliant white. That is just a matter of time I'm sure.

The past few years have not been so great for dear ole' dad. His wife has, as always, had numerous health issues. Her son, at 16, now towers over my father and probably weighs twice what he does - he's turned into a hooligan, out of control, already been picked up by the RCMP a few times, and set fire to the field behind the house, not to mention a few court dates. On top of that and problems with her two daughters, dad was also diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma. It took a lot out of him and to this day does not seem to be himself. I think it scared him more than he ever let on. It certainly aged him rather quickly.

As with most families, there were good times and bad times. I certainly don't look back on my childhood with rose-coloured glasses. However, the older I get I prefer to look back at the good times. So, Dad, on this special day designed just for dads, I'd like to say thanks for doing your best raising both your kids during their teen years on your own and sacrificing your own personal life during that time. Thanks for coaching me for all those bowling seasons. Thanks for teaching me to do an oil change and how to drive. Thanks for getting soooo angry when we refused to stop calling it Marble-aid - the morning spent standing in a corner was worth the laughter and years of teasing you. Thanks for taking me fishing and target shooting.

Most of all, thanks for the love and helping make me who I am today.

1 comments:

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Happy Father's Day, Karen's dad!

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