Dad

Today is the anniversary of my father's birth. He died 8 years ago, before my two youngest girls were born. My father was the second youngest of 7 children, an older brother died before Dad was born. Two of my dad's older brothers were in the navy when he was born.

Money was tight in for my father's family and Dad always received the Christmas tree as his one birthday gift each year. My Dad's father was a wonderful athlete and doted on the older boys who were also athletic. My dad was a talented musician. For many years he was a successful professional jazz musician in Chicago. After he married my mom, Dad gave up playing, because my mom didn't want to be home alone every night. My father's parents NEVER heard my dad perform. They never attended school programs or went to his professional concerts. I know that this hurt my Dad greatly. Later when he became a parent, my dad made a point of attending all his children's concerts, plays, and sports games. He would take his lunch breaks when our school programs were scheduled.

When I was growing up, Dad would would half-days on Saturdays. Saturday afternoons and Sundays were spent hauling everyone's bikes in our VW minibus to a state park, where we would ride bikes for hours and hours. Dad would help us identify birds, plants, and insects. In the winter, we would go sledding, hiking, or snuggle under blankets as Dad read Tom Sawyer (and many others) aloud to us.

Dad's parents went to various churches when he was growing up. They believed that the children should visit lots of denominations and choose what they thought was best. After meeting my mom, Dad attended the Lutheran church. He taught Sunday School, led the boy Pioneer group, and was an elder. Regularly, he led family devotions in our home.

My dad had his faults, but he provided us with a childhood of great family memories, a love of music, an appreciation of nature, and strong faith. He was truly the glue that held our family together.