[/caption]Family legend has it that my Grandmother Wolf held her legs together on April 1st because she did not want to have an April Fool's baby. Thus, because of my Grandmother's determination, my dad was born on April 2nd.
My mom & dad divorced when I was maybe two (don't have any memories of it, so I do not have the exact date). Thus, when we were growing up, we spent weekends visiting my dad. Boy oh boy did we have a good time over there. I know I've already mentioned the eating Kool-aid straight outta the can, but wait there is more. My sister andI would create "everything cakes" where we would take whatever we found in the refrigerator (typically condiments) and stir it all together and bake it and wait anxiously to see what would happen. Usually we didn't want to eat what came out of the oven, but the process itself was a good time.
[caption id="attachment_736" align="alignright" width="196" caption="Susan makes rain."]
[/caption]Another favorite activity was to blow up this big rubber raft and make up dances or do those clapping rhymes (i.e. Ms. Mary Mack, Apples on a Stick, Sweet Sweet Baby) while bouncing on the sides. Even though it was a big pain to blow up, my dad did it because of what a spectacular time we had.
Sometimes we would listen to a song like "Don't it make my brown eyes blue" or "Da Do Run Run" over and over at full blast while we sang at top volume. Man oh man did we ever sound good when that music was blaring.
We would take driving trips to visit family in Colorado or Oklahoma or Texas (where my Dad grew up). On one such trip, Susan & I got so loopy in the backseat that we decided to have sock puppet shows for the entertainment of the other cars on the road (aka "the audience"). We could not stop laughing when one of us said the phrase, "Golly gee". That sort of goofiness only seems to happen when you are captured in a car for 10 or 12 hours, particularly if you are driving across Kansas.
[caption id="attachment_723" align="alignleft" width="298" caption="His adorable daughters."]
[/caption]Before my sister's 40th birthday party in New York, I compiled a book of stories and quotes and poems from some of Susan's biggest fans. When I asked my dad for a submission, he sent me 4 or 5 e-mails worth of stories. It seemed that once he began reminiscing, he just could not stop. Then he sent me a bunch of photos too. Following is some of what he sent me...(I know, is it fair to make him write his own special birthday blog? And is it right for me to share these private thoughts?) I love these e-mails because the stories really capture how he feels about his daughter.
This is a memory I have of Susan shortly after she was born. It was discovered that she had a hole in the back of her upper palate. It was necessary to feed her milk with a pharmacy cup. Her mom was very upset upon discovering this and Susan would gag when the milk would get into the hole. So I took Susan and tried to give her milk with the small pharmacy cup. She was so small and so hungry. I remember how her thick black hair covered her head. She was one hungry little daughter and would gulp the milk. It would make her choke when the milk went down the wrong pipe as
[caption id="attachment_818" align="alignright" width="194" caption="Susan as a baby."]
[/caption]they say. Necessity dictated that the process continue. So I tried to feed her and get milk down to a smaller trickle so it would not choke her. How I loved that little bundle. I have said that I am hard pressed to realize that I am forty and yet my children now are approaching that age. How much I have grown to love and appreciate Susan in those 40 years she has been on this earth. PS We were fortunate that a famous plastic surgeon repaired her mouth. Years ago Susan would not have been able to speak. How fortunate we are that she could and rose to the lofty achievements that she did academically. Love dad
And in another e-mail, he continued...
I still have the pharmacy cup that I used to feed Susan when she was a child. I have hung on to it and keep it to remember those days. I had to be sure that I could still find it. With Linda's help I was able to remember which drawer it was in. Think your idea to get Susan a 40 birthday remembrance is great. Seems like a lot of us dread a certain age. I dreaded 40. But after the birthday I was just glad to be here. Love dad
When Ellie was undergoing chemotherapy, my dad sent numerous poems that he created about Ellie and what she liked (see That's MY name too blog...) Here's an example:
[caption id="attachment_431" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ellie before her huggle snuggle shop there were bows. Many bows."]
[/caption]Betsi owns a Snuggle Shop which gives her great joy
Her shop has a snuggle for a girl or a boy
The shop is ever open never closing its door
ready to give snuggles when needed - take one or more
Snuggles give lots of love and affection
They cure our blues and give us new direction
No wonder the snuggle shop is such a great deal
After getting free snuggles how much better we feel
Betsi thank you for having the Snuggle Shoppe
For it is a blessing which is very hard to top.
I read these poems to Ellie over and over again.
[caption id="attachment_148" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben & Granddad"]
[/caption]When my Dad comes to visit he will sit in Ellie's room and observe her while she plays, remembering all the things she is doing so that when he returns home he can fashion a poem for her. Just so sweet to see how he is getting to know both Ellie and Ben.
When I told my dad we were going to have Ben's birth at home, my dad was nervous at first. But then I shared the information I had researched, he listened intently to what I had to say. I so appreciated his willingness to fully listen and I think at one point he told me that I had really done my research. I loved that he truly understood that I had not taking this decision lightly.
[caption id="attachment_734" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Still merry even after we rammed into his car."]
[/caption]One cold Christmas day, as Susan was pulling into my dad's driveway, she ran into his car. As we went inside, we said, "Merry Christmas Dad, we just ran into your car." First he inquired whether or not everyone was alright. Then he calmly went outside to investigate. Never for a moment did he became angry or even frustrated. He told us how when he was a younger driver, the same thing had happened and his dad (I think) had never raised his voice. In that instance he made it so perfectly clear that Susan and I were what was important to him. He understood that the crash had been an accident, and he treated it as such, no lecture, no yelling, just understanding that accidents happen. I want to be able to react to my children's mishaps with the same calm understanding that he did. Thanks, Dad, for all the understanding, love, and fun you have brought to our lives over the years. How fortunate we are to have you as our Dad. Have a happy birthday! Love, Debi
Oh, how sweet. I hope I can meet your dad some day. I sure miss my dad.
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