October 7 - Happy Birthday, Dad!

Hey Hey it's my Dad's Birthday!!!

My Dad is 84 today. Wow! That's really amazing. What's even more amazing is that he's out and about and still gardening as much as possible.



So here's a tribute to, really, I think, the strongest man I know: (he's the one on the bottom of the pyramid)

Dear Dad,

Thanks for being such an amazing Dad over the years. Here's just a couple of things I remember from growing up with such a truly amazing person in my life.

My dad always believed in fairness and hard work. He believes that hard work will always pay off. When I was in 8th grade our class decided to go on a class trip. To finance this trip we had to fund-raise. We were all outfitted with a sales kit - I think it was called the Tom Wat Kit- literally a suitcase full of miscellaneous junk that you had to haul around and pander to the neighborhood. The person who sold the most stuff won a bike. I really wanted that bike. I had an old bike with a banana seat - I think it was a hand me down, but this new bike was a ten speed. So cool. Really really really wanted the bike. I hauled that suitcase around like there was no tomorrow. I strapped it on my back, I carried it like a purse. I dragged it everywhere. I rode that old bike with it under my arm. Every day for two weeks I spent hours and hours selling this stuff to people. One little trinket at a time. I think I put on 100 miles on that old bike in that time. I think I sold over $1600!!! That was amazing for selling crap that costs like $2! Anyway, there was a big celebration to present the winner with the bike. Our whole class was there and I really thought I had won. But, sadly, I did not. Some other kid - I won't mention names cause his wife is my friend on facebook - aww, what the hell-- DANNY FISHER - won!!! Apparently his mom worked at Koh-i-nor (a huge factory in our town) and left the kit in her break room for two weeks racking up over $2000 in sales. No offense Danny, but that sucked. Actually it wasn't so bad. Between Danny and I, we were able to fund the entire class to go to Hershey Park in June. Happily, we all signed a contract that stated that we would complete all of the eighth grade assignments by June 1st to enable us to go on the class trip. June rolled around and because I did not complete a math worksheet on time, ( it was one sheet that literally took me like 15 minutes to complete) I was told that they had to honor the contract and I was not allowed to go on the trip. I tried not to care, (I've never gone to that park) but apparently it really pissed off my dad. He had written letters to the teacher, principals, school board, etc. He met with people and really went to bat for me. I, of course, was oblivious to all of this, and I didn't find out until later when my dad wrote me a letter that listed all of the things he did. He also included a letter he wrote to the teacher/principal. He apologized for life not being fair and encouraged me to always have faith that hard work will pay off. I keep that letter in the drawer of my desk to remind me that he fought for me when he thought the system was unfair to me. Thanks Dad.

When I was very little, one of my earliest memories of my dad is taking naps with him. On Sunday afternoons he would lie on the couch with his knees bent and I would snuggle up in the crook of his knee and we would both fall asleep. I also remember him reading the Sunday comics to me every Sunday and clipping my nails with a nailclipper that I am sure he still carries around in his pocket today. Seriously, if you ever need a clipper, my dad's got one in his pocket. Don't ask me why, I guess with seven kids there was always someone's nails that needed to be clipped.

I enjoyed spending time with my dad, even if it was to collect rocks from the garden which seemed to be his favorite job to give to me when we were outside. My dad loves to garden. I can't even list all the stuff he's grown. If you can grow it, my dad probably tried to. Sometimes, I guess if his back was hurting or something, he would let me plant, but that didn't happen much, I was usually the rock girl. When I got a little bigger he let me stand on the back of the plow to weigh it down a bit and to collect any worms that might by plowed up, but that was as close as he let me come to his garden.








I could go on forever about how cool my dad is. He was a soldier in WWII, he's got medals and memorbillias from that time galore. He'd sit back at dinner and tell us all kinds of stories about hunting, fishing, when he was a boy and when he was in Germany. I vaguely remember a train story and I will never forget how he was a prisoner and escaped while saving two of his buddies from brush fire. Or how he met my mother at a park in her hometown. He was so full of life and still is. One day he was hunting for alligators .... that's always how he started his stories.

My dad worked in NYC as a VP for Hearst Enterprises. I'm sure he had other jobs, but for my lifetime that's where he worked. Sometimes he would take me to work with him, I guess to experience city life. I remember him telling me not to stare at people on the subway, but that was hard not to do. As a publishing house - Hearst - He would let me pick up first-run books (flare were my favorite) and I could pick out as many as I wanted. He worked in the same building as Helen Gurley Brown, the editor of cosmopolitan, and one day on the elevator (the kind with a an elevator guy and you tell him what floor you're going to and he pushes the lever forward) he pointed her out to me. At the time, I had no idea who she was, but now, I think what a majorly cool thing for him to do. We always got all the magazines before they were published. Sometimes he would bring home magazines without the cover, just the insides before it was edited. So so so neat! And we would always go to a different place to eat for lunch.

Anyway, on January 30, 1981, he took me to work with him to watch the ticker tape parade celebrating the release of American Hostages from Iran. The name comes from the ticker tape originally thrown onto the parade when it passed stockbrokers' offices in lower Manhattan, before stock tickers became obsolete. As the parade was reaching our corner, my dad lifted me up on his shoulders so I could see the convertible cars pass by. I saw the hostages and remember thinking that they looked really really small. What an amazing thing to be in that moment. I looked up and people were literally emptying out trash cans of shredded paper into the streets from windows 50 or 60 stories high, maybe higher. And so much cheering. It was a magic moment, one celebrating a moment in American history that I will never forget. Thank you, dad.

My dad still reads probably 5 different newspapers a day. He's an avid stamp collector and coin collector. He enjoys spending time with his family-- 18 grandkids, seven kids and many many friends. He's active in our historical society, was the secretary of the Stewartsville Zoning Board for over 50 years, and has a full social calendar.


Thanks Dad and Happy Birthday! Here's to many more!