Memory #11 A song....

He adored this song and often played it on vinyl for me. For me it sums up a lot about his thoughts on God and Heaven- simple and profound at the same time. As a child, I merely enjoyed the musical aspect of this song- thought the music was cool and there was hand clapping involved.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umQCgaZnO0o

Memory #10 Pea Soup and a tantrum

I remember being a small child and accompanying my dad to a local child care facility where he worked. I recall they were serving pea soup for lunch with celery and peanut butter on the side. I distinctly remember this because I HATE peas and have for a long time. I threw a tantrum yelling at the teacher that I didn't have to eat that "stuff" because my dad worked there and I was "special". That yelling prompted my dad to come into the room as he heard me. He pulled me aside and said quietly that he knew I was special but that didn't mean I could show myself. He instructed me to taste the soup, as well as the celery/peanut butter and if I did not care for it then so be it. But I was not to yell at anyone or spit food out; I could sit quietly until my friends were finished. I hung my head and went back to my seat; tasted the soup and gagged but sat there quietly.

#9 Thanksgiving Memory

I hate holidays. I don't have very specific Thanksgiving memories of my dad. At least not specific to a year or anything like that. What I do remember is watching him (and sometimes helping) prepare his Thanksgiving ham, mashed potatoes and stuffing. He wasn't the best all around cook, but when he cooked something well, he did it right. I don't know how he did it, but his ham was always so good.

There was one year he attempted to make a chocolate pie. It was not successful. It turned orange. How does that happen? But what I remember most about that experience is how much we laughed about and sat down in the kitchen floor with this chocolate orange colored "pie" and ate it with spoons from the bowl.
I just miss him. The holidays always make it worse and I know that I am no different from others. It still just sucks.

Memory #8 Kindergarten Sing -A- Long

When I was in Kindergarten, Dad received permission to come to my class to sing songs with us. He brought his guitar and spent most of the day with my class. I was so excited that he was going to be at my school. I think I wanted to "show him off" to my classmates. You know, the whole "Thats MY dad. He's better than YOUR dad" mentality. But hey, I was 5 years old. I was so excited to see him when he walked into the classroom. I had even dressed up in a little plaid jumper (yes,  I remember what I was wearing that day). We all sat down on the big carpet. He asked for requests. Kids shouted out different songs and he played and sang. We all sang along with him. Other kids started getting closer to him and I did not like that one bit. I even pushed a little boy down who moved over next to my dad. My dad quietly told me to sit down and keep my hands to myself or I wouldn't be able to sing with them anymore. I sat down while keeping my eye on the other kid. Then my awesome teacher, Mrs. Brenda Bunn, said I could choose a song to sing for the last song my dad would play. I requested "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". I got up and "danced". I sang my heart out with this song and did what most people would call an "interpretive dance" to it. I remember looking at my dad's face during this moment and he had the biggest smile. After he completed the song, he put his guitar away and we all had to go to our seats. As he left the classroom, I ran over to tell him "bye". I started to cry and told him not to go. You see, at that point in my life I only saw him every other weekend as I still lived with my mother. I knew that day that it would be a little longer until I saw him again. He peeled me off of him and told me he loved me and would see me soon but that I needed to be a big girl and go sit in my chair. I obliged but cried the rest of the day. Consequently, I had a new respect for the kid who cried all the time in my class.
Several years prior to my dad's passing, he asked me if I remembered when he visited my Kindergarten class and my "dance" to Itsy Bitsy Spider. I laughed and said, "of course I do. I spun and twirled and shook my hiney. I also remember being so sad that you left and how I cried all day". Its funny how that has always been my reaction to him leaving: whether it be from my Kindergarten class; our home after a heated argument ; or when he left this Earth for good...

Memory #7- Freshman Band pictures

It was Fall of 1992 and me being the band geek I was (and still at heart, am) had to participate in having band pictures taken. They were taken at the beautiful backdrop of the Morrow Library at Marshall University. We didn't have a car at this point, so we had to take a taxi down to Marshall. I was horrified that we had to ride in a taxi. We were soooooooooo uncool. My dad also had his "walking stick" - which was a long bamboo rod with a rubber stopper looking thing on the end. He didn't need it; he just wanted to carry it. Once we arrived at MU, he began talking to anybody and everybody. That was his nature; but I was unbelievably embarrassed that my father would talk to people that I knew. There really isn't a point to this story, but I just remember how unhappy I was with him that day because of  his social ability. I know every teenager is mortified by their parents at some point so I know I wasn't the only one. There were times I wished he didn't talk to everyone but I didn't appreciate his friendliness with other people. I didn't want him to talk to others. I thought it was weird. But looking back on it now as a rational adult I know it was just his nature and I appreciate it so much.

Memory #6 - Things that go bump in the night...

It was the summer of 93. Insomnia ran rampant in our home. Granny didn't sleep well because of pain and restless leg syndrome; Dad because of nightmares and flashbacks from Vietnam; Me because of the other 2. One night I was up late while everyone else was actually asleep. It was well after midnight and I decided to fix a bowl of cereal and watch a movie on Lifetime. I finished my bowl of cereal and began to feel sleepy so I thought I would try to get some sleep. Keep in mind the lights are off at this point. I walked into the kitchen to put my bowl in the sink and walked (literally) into my dad. I screamed and began to cry. He says,"Why did you scream? Why are you crying?" I said through my sobs," You scared me. I didn't hear you get up. " He then says, "Well why did the bowl shatter?" I continued to sob and said," Because I dropped it when you scared me." For reference purposes, my dad had been in the Marine Corps and had done a stint in Vietnam and learned to walk without making a sound. This was one of those instances; compounded with the lights being off and it being the middle of the night- well it scared the life out of me.
He helped me sweep up the broken bowl. He told me to go to bed and he would "try to be quiet". I laughed when he said that because he was ALWAYS quiet when he putzed around the house.

Memory #5- Hardee's on Third Avenue and rabbit food

I hate good intentions sometimes... I really do want to write about all of these great memories but life just gets in the way sometimes.
But alas... here is memory #5.
I was probably about 7 years old or so. One Hundred and One Dalmatians had been re-released to the theaters. This is relevant to this memory as Hardee's was selling plush Dalmatian puppies with certain meals. I was determined to get one of those dogs. My dad and I went to the Hardee's on Third Avenue in Huntington (which is now Buddy's All- American BBQ for those of you keeping score) with his friend, Cameron (Ami may have been there for this, but I don't think she was). I ended up with a breaded chicken sandwich that had mayo and lettuce on it. I protested about the lettuce on my sandwich. I liked lettuce in salads but I did not care for shredded lettuce on a sandwich. My dad told me to quiet down and that eating  "a little rabbit food" wasn't going to kill me. I started to cry saying I didn't want to eat rabbit food. He tried to keep from laughing, but he did try to calm me and reassure me that rabbits eat lettuce sometimes and that I wasn't actually eating food specifically for rabbits. I ate my sandwich through tears. I did get my plush Dalmatian puppy though.
There are times I think, "how on earth did my dad do it? How did he not laugh at everything I said? How did he keep an even keel when I was uneven so to speak?" I think back to my childhood and think that I would not have had the patience to deal with me and think even more highly of him for that.

Memory #4

I was 17 years old and my cat, Freeway had been acting strange. She had been urinating in weird places, drinking excessive amounts of water and appearing disoriented and confused at times. Granted, she was a good 14 years of age.But she had changed and was no longer the spunky kitty cat who greeted me every morning at 6am with a loud squall to wake me. One day while I was at school, my dad took her to the vet to have her checked out. When my dad picked me up from school, I knew something wasn't right. He had a look on his face that to this day I can't explain. I asked him what was wrong. He said you will need to call the vet when we get home so he can explain the options for Freeway. I knew something had to be very very wrong. I called the vet as soon as I got in the house. The vet explained that my beloved kitty had developed Diabetes and was very ill. He explained that she could potentially be treated every morning at his office with an injection of insulin, but he didn't feel that at her advanced age that was a fair choice. He noted her extreme anxiety anytime she was brought in for a visit and how long it took her to recover from a vet visit (we had told him from the get go when she was a kitty that it would take her days to recover emotionally). He felt that we would not be doing her any favors by increasing her anxiety and that she had lived a good , long, healthy life. He recommended we bring her in to have her pts. I told the vet I would talk with my dad. My dad already knew what we would do, but he had said from the very beginning that Freeway was my cat and he felt I needed to have a say so in her treatments and especially with a decision like this. We made the decision to have her PTS. I held her in my lap as we drove to the vets office. Once we got back to the exam room, the vet gave her a sedative to relax her before giving her the final injection. I watched my dad talk to her, kiss her head and tell her what a good girl she was. He thanked her for choosing us to be her family (she was a stray that followed us for several weeks). He then started to cry uncontrollably. This is one of 4 times I ever saw him shed a tear- (the first time was when another cat passed away the previous year). I tried to keep it together but it was hard. I had to drive home because he was in no shape to do so.
I just remember seeing how emotional he was about this and thought how he had such a big heart. Little kids and animals adored him. I think because he "got" them. He understood them on their terms in their world.

excuses and challenges...

Ok, so maybe I haven't been writing down a memory every day. Life gets in the way sometimes.

So what I will do is write 365 memories.. whether it takes a year or longer or less to come up with them..so be it.

There are so many things to say at times about my memories with my dad. Some are music related. Some are sad memories. Some are happy. Some make me angry. But then again that is life. People aren't always happy. People aren't always mad or sad. To only select happy memories would not be an honest recollection of the good man he was.