Happy Birthday Dad!

Don means World Mighty.

Call him Don, Dad, Grandpa... but DO NOT call him Donald!

His birth name is only Don.

Dad, how about Donny... Can we call you Grandpa Donny?

I rather like the sound of that.

So my Papa's birthday was May 5.  

Cards... I once sent him a funny card he did not like it. (Remember the birthday fairy... the card said you must of been hit too many times with the wand!  All you could think of was an ugly stick the fairy must be using.)   Mushy cards... those are no fun.  His favorite cards are the homemade ones... the ones you did not spend money on, but spend your time... a precious commodity.  I know that he will like this virtual card.  

So to go back a few years... can you believe like 25-30 years, how did I get so old?  I played basketball, in fact, quite loved the game.  My Dad would come to all the HS games, he would even figure out how to make it to the away games.  This was before he became a school bus driver; when he was able to drive the team to away games.   Dad soon learned early on that I did not like criticism from him, that if he was going to come to the games then he better be cheering for me.   Then afterwords, I only want to hear how awesome I did.  I already knew my mistakes and shortcomings... did not need them pointed out.  Cheerleaders, that is what I need in my life.

I did play some ball in college... it was not a happy experience.  My Dad and Mom came to one of my first games.  Afterwards he was ready to string my Coach up and give her a word or two.  It was needed, but I do not know if it would of done any good.   I told him I would take care of it... I did it my own way.   Which was be silent and work harder.  That did not work either.  I should of let my Dad string her up. 

Hard-work... we had plenty of it.  My parents owned a Dairy Farm until I was in 7th grade; milk, process, bottled and sold the milk on site.  It was a family run business and I was the oldest.  Thank goodness I had younger brothers to do the messy work of milking the cows.  I got to work in the cleaner areas-- you know, away from the poo.  So clean that I remember being teased (it was horrible teasing, kids are so mean) that I smelled like a swimming pool.  That would be because at the time we used glass bottles, we washed and sanitized (in bleach water) them by hand.  That was my job to do before school.   I learned to use a cash register and count money back to the customer by the time I was in 3rd grade.  Count money back, you do not see that today as the cash register tells the clerk how much cash to return.  When I work the Corona Hut for Jordan's band... I still count the cash back, old habits never die.  

Riding Horses... had them growing up and I did 4H horsemanship.  The first little rodeo I did I was on Flicka, a Shetland pony.   I was so scared and did not want to do the key hole, an event where you take the horse up a straight line, turn around in the key hole and then race back out with out touching the lines.  Fastest time wins.  I cried and cried.  Nerves had got the best of me, but my dad was going to have nothing to do with it.   I finally relented to go... I sped that little horse out as fast as I could, turned around just inside the top of the keyhole and then sped back out.   I did that because all eyes were on me and it was so embarrassing, being the very shy child I was.   I just wanted it done as soon as possible.  I won!  It was a good confidence builder.    

Also along the same lines of riding horses... I believe most of us kids had to break a horse in at sometime.  Not a fun job, because eventually you would land on the ground.   My dad did not mince words in this area and you got back on that horse and showed him who is boss.  He took the same approach when I was learning to drive... with a stick shift.   Very difficult when you are trying to go uphill and every time you let off the brake, it starts rolling down.  The clutch and the gas... such a delicate balance.  You just have to show it who is boss.   Confidence, the I-can-do-it attitude... I found that it is deep inside and you have to reach in and pull it out.  

Guns.... I know how to use them.   But it has been a really, really long time.   When I was old enough I got a hunting license.  And I procured some venison for the family... twice.   Dad said that one of those deer he injured first and it was really his.  No, he missed his deer, and I shot mine.   And no, my Dad did not make me gut it or drag it.  I am a lady after all!

Boys coming to the house...  my Dad did not beat them away with a stick, he begged for them to take me out.  Ha, ha.  He did not want some old maid around the house.  I have few letters where the boy says to tell my Dad "Hello"... letter after letter.  Another one says... "Thank your Dad for letting you go with me to...."  Yep, not a soul was afraid of my Dad or his guns or his sticks.  Dad- Remember that cute young vacuum salesman who asked you if he could take me out... you turned the poor guy away.  And why? Because he had a habit you could smell... but you know better then to judge someone now... right?  I thought he was very brave and thoughtful to ask your permission and said we should have had him over for dinner and games.  It could of changed his life and at the very least I would of had a rook partner!

My father when he was a young chap.   Me, one month into my life on earth.

My Dad as an older chap.    My son Chance about 1o months.

Chance took a liking to Grandpa at this time.

A page from a scrapbook made for my Grandpa.

It chronicles a bit of my Dad's life in pictures.

Happy Birthday Dad!   You and Mom celebrated your birthday by going on a cruise to Alaska.   Since you are back now, I figured I better get this completed.   Hope you got to eat your favorite ice cream, your favorite food, and your favorite drink.   I am sure it was all great as long as the food was crisped  up for you... just so you know, Chance prefers crispy cookies just like you.

I love you.   Your daughter,  Karalene