As a child I heard Mom say, a time or two, I had Dad wrapped around my little finger. I was the only child out of their five that he witnessed the birth because way back then fathers were not allowed in the delivery rooms at the hospital. I suspect I didn’t want him left out, so my delivery was at home.
It all started after my grandparents came to take my sister, Rosanne, home with them for an overnight stay. They did this often, taking turns with each grandchild. After they left, Mom started having strong contractions so Dad called the doctor and told him they were on their way to the hospital. Because of the pain, Mom struggled to walk to the back door towards the garage. Dad rushed ahead to drive the car out of the unattached garage closer to the back door. When he got back in the house to help her to the car he realized her water broke and the impatient and determined baby was already on its way. He ran to the phone to call the doctor again and heard the television. Realizing there was only a stairway between where they were upstairs in the kitchen and where my two brothers were downstairs in the T.V. room added concern to this already stressful situation. Dad hollered down the stairs, “No matter what, you boys do not come up these stairs!”
Mickey, age seven and a half and Donny nearly four, paid little attention to the hustle and bustle at the top of the stairs. Fortunately, they were more interested in the show than the arrival of a new baby, so it was easy to obey their father’s order.
By the time the doctor got to our home I had already arrived. What an entrance for a nine pound baby! I wish I could remember it… What I do remember is being referred to as their “kitchen baby”. Depending on the day, or the mood, I was amused at the thought of coming into the world in this unusual way, or completely embarrassed.
I’ve been told Dad often teased Mom during their four pregnancies that he had delivered lots of calves on the farm, so there was no need for a doctor. I guess I was listening.
I’ve always had faith in Dad’s abilities. He can usually fix anything I break and is willing to help me build whatever my mind dreams of. I enjoy discussing ideas with him because he doesn’t tell me I can’t accomplish it, but rather points out the difficulties and then helps me find solutions to make it work out. He’s taught me to work hard for what I wanted and not to be afraid of failure. If the intended outcome didn’t occur on the first, second or third attempt, you just keep on trying and learn from your mistakes. His wisdom, experience, encouragement and optimistic attitude greatly benefit’s my life.
Dad showed me how to have fun by providing many outdoor adventures. Horseback riding, waterskiing, snowmobiling, four-wheeling are just a few of my favorite things to do with him. He instilled in me a love for the outdoors.
In addition to being adventurous and hard-working, he is generous with his time and shares everything he has. He cares about people, especially family. He loves my children and husband just as deeply as I feel he loves me.
Dad’s endured much heartbreak, but you’d never know it by his cheery nature. His mother died just a couple of weeks before his twelfth birthday and his father’s death was ten years later. Years passed and a sister was sadly murdered and he was the one who had to identify her body. He’s borne family and business disappointments without bitter feelings. He’s dealt with many health issues with no complaints. His life demonstrates how to accept the things you can’t change with calmness, while having courage to change the things he can. Without calling attention to his hardships, I recognize them and have learned a lot from the way he quietly handles his trials.
Many years have passed since my rare entrance into this world and I’m grateful for the bond it made between us. I appreciate the model he’s given me to pattern my own life and thankful for the love and support he gives me. Dad, I love you!
Happy Father’s Day to two of my favorite men!