The Walk

Girls

Mom & I and Bruno are on a camping trip to Casey, Illinois...home to the World's Largest...things. This morning we saw the World's Largest rocking chair, yardstick, wind chime, pencil, barber pole, mailbox, antlers and token coin. We missed a few but may look them up over the next few days here. 

After a rainy trip here yesterday, it is a nice fall day, sunny but very breezy. The temp is near 60 but feels like 40 with the wind chill. Bruno has had me out multiple times for walks and a chance to smell every smell the campground has to offer. 

As we were on our last walk, we did a lap around the campground and on our way to the far side, the wind was in my face. I had my hood up on my sweatshirt and enjoyed the sunshine but hated that wind. As we reached the far side we turned away from the wind and had the sun against our back while we made our way back around to the camper. The sun felt so good the walk became very enjoyable, even as Bruno stopped and smelled where every dog and squirrel had crossed our path. 

I began to think our walk was like the walk we must all make in life. There are days things don't feel good and we want to turn around and go back. But when we finally get to the end of that initial path, we receive the comfort and joy as things begin to feel better.

So, don't forget when you have those days when the wind's at your face, your turn will come when you feel the warmth of the sun again. Just keep pressing on.

REMEMBER: There are so many beautiful reasons to be happy.

Be talkin' to ya.

Dad

CHARLES!...CHARLES!...CHARLES!!!

Girls

As I shared with you a few days ago...Trudy let us know that Charles Story had passed away unexpectedly. You all mentioned that you remembered him even though it had been many years since you had last seen him...outside of an occasional photo. Jaime shared she remembered him at the Owensville Watermelon Festival years ago, when he won the watermelon eating contest. (He later shared that he may not have eaten as much as he was given credit for...but I digress).

Mom and I still giggle about a story that Brady & Tim shared with us long ago. Charles' father (and uncles too I think) were in the home construction business and Charles, and his brothers Bobby and Clyde were also a part of the business. As I recall the story, Charles was on the 2nd floor of a home they were building and Charles was using a saw to cut off some of the two-by-fours (or 2x12's...whatever). Anyway, Charles' father was reminding Charles that there were some nails in some of the boards so be careful that he didn't cut through the nails as it would ruin the sawblade. Without fail, Charles cut through one or more of the nails, ruining the sawblade, and the next commotion was Charles' dad shouting, "Charles...Charles...Charles". To add extra humor to this story, you have to remember it was being told by the wonderful story-teller, Brady, so imagine those words repeated to us in Brady's southern drawl and his body language antics. 

Now a story that we probably haven't told you, is that I went down the summer of 1972 after high school graduation and before I started college in the fall and worked on Charles' construction crew with Brady, Tim, and their friend Mike. One of our main jobs was to dig the footers for many of the houses in the addition they owned. Footers are the 2-3 foot-wide trenches that you dig around the perimeter of the house to be built. That trench is then filled with concrete and forms the support for the outer walls of the house. (Brady, years later, moved into one of those houses and of course Charles & Sylvia's beautiful home was in that addition, and we helped dig their footers.) 

I think Charles paid me $2.25 an hour (which was good wages in 1972). I saved up most of the money from that summer job and came home and mom & I went to a wholesale store and bought the engagement ring and wedding rings that we would use two years later when we got married. I can thank Charles for his willingness to hire me that summer and little did he know, his wages would contribute to a relationship that celebrated 48 years of marriage a few months ago.

Charles was a good man to mom and me and will always be remembered for his kindness, friendliness, singing and laughter. We would hope that Charles may Rest In Peace.

REMEMBER: Notice when you are happy, and think at some point, "If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. - Kurt Vonnegut

Be talkin' to ya.

Dad

A SHARP KNIFE NEEDED

 
Girls

We ran out of Kleenex in one of the bathrooms this morning, so I went to the garage to our stockpile of paper goods where I found a 4-pack of Kleenex, wrapped in plastic. I got one of dad’s old pocketknives out of the tool box to cut the plastic off...and giggled a little as I had trouble cutting through the plastic with that old knife. 

My mind flashed back 60 years to watching my dad sharpening his pocketknife almost daily. In his job at the hardware store in Owensville, he had to use that knife often…cutting open boxes, cutting string or rope for customers, digging out dirt from under his fingernails, any number of tasks. 

Dad ALWAYS carried two things in his pockets for as long as I remember…a coin purse (see blog from March 31, 2021), and his pocketknife. And he always had that knife blade...razor sharp. 

I don’t know if he had one at work too, but at home he had a grinding stone that he used to sharpen his knife blades. He would find a comfortable place to sit, hold the grindstone in one hand and knife in the other...and slowly move the blade back and forth, one side of the blade then the other, and then move it in a circular motion over that stone…every once-in-a-while even spitting on the stone and then grinding that blade some more. I recalled him doing that when I was a kid...and for the next 30 years as we both grew older.

I now wonder if that knife sharpening routine had two meanings for dad…one to sharpen the blade (obviously)…but also as a form of mental therapy for dad...a time out. He had no easy life…a hard worker 60-70 hours a week…a wife in the state hospital with her mental challenges…3 young kids at home to feed, clothe, get off to school and more things on a to-do list than most. But dad thrived at doing all those things...and I think even took pride in them...and was certainly held in high regard by those who knew him and the challenges he faced. 

But I'm thinking those few minutes...with his pocket knife and grind stone...took him away from all of that…if only for a little while. 

I sure don’t have the challenges that dad had…but I’ve got a few. Maybe I oughta get his grind stone out and sharpen his old knife.

REMEMBER: Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful. –Ann Landers

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

ANNIVERSARIES COME AND GO....QUICKLY. ENJOY THEM

 

Girls

Today is Joni & Ryan's 14th wedding anniversary. That hardly seems possible to me and likely to them as well. How does that time go by so quickly?

Mom cross-stitched a pattern that hangs on our bedroom wall, celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary in 1986. In 9 days we will be celebrating our 48th! 

Dates of celebration are looked forward to, and before we know it, they have passed. Birthdays...anniversaries...dates of significance...here and gone.

I'd urge you to look forward to and celebrate those days. But more importantly...try to find something to celebrate in every day. Even in those lousy days we sometimes have...there's something we should find and celebrate. 

REMEMBER: Your life doesn't need to make sense to other people, and other people's lives don't need to make sense to you.

Be talkin' to ya.

Dad 

WIN...WIN

 

Girls

A few weeks ago mom and I went "RV ing" with our friends Don & Susan, Susan's sister Sally and Sally's friend Cathy. We camped at a state park in eastern Indiana at Brookville Lake. We had a fun, relaxing and learning week while there.

Our campsites were at the end of one section of the campground. Don & Susan's RV was at the top of the curve, we were across the road from them and Sally & Cathy were next to us. Since it was a one-way road into the sites, all traffic in our section rounded the curve by us as they headed back to the entrance of the camp. Sally & Cathy's site had a nice shade tree next to their trailer so we all settled there when we were outside. They had a big mat on the ground and we put all our chairs, tables and fans there and with the shade and a nice breeze it was a great congregating place for the week.

Each day, folks would drive by, walk by or ride by as we waved or said hi to those passing. Every day, a group of 4 young kids came by, 3 girls and a boy. The oldest girl was probably 10, the next 9, then 8 and the boy was maybe 6. Every day the 9-year old was so outgoing, saying, "hi...how are you...what'd you do today," followed by a "see you...hope you have a good day tomorrow." The 10-year old was equally friendly as were the two younger ones, but the 9-year old was the leader. 

As I said, every day, they would ride by and wave and say something friendly. One day the 9-year old saw me near our RV and asked what we were doing tomorrow and I said we were going "Pontooning". She asked what that was and I pointed to a nearby pontoon boat and said we're taking one of those out on the lake. She oohed and ahhed and said that sounded like fun. She introduced who she was as well as her three amigos and then asked my name. I told her mine and immediately forgot who she said all their names were and they were off for fun again.

On our next-to-last day, the two older girls rode by while I was outside our RV and Miss Friendly said "tomorrow is our last day" and I told her it was ours too. We talked for a minute and then I asked her where her campsight was and she pointed to a big RV about 6 sites from ours. I walked toward their RV while the two girls took off on their bikes. When I got to their site, there were 6 or 8 adults sitting underneath their shade tent along with the youngest girl and little boy. I didn't want to say "are you guys with the two little girls on their bikes?"...because I was afraid I would scare them thinking that I was telling them they were hurt or were in trouble...so I said..."I want all of you to know, you have the sweetest kids. They are so outgoing and friendly and so sweet...whatever it is you are doing...keep doing it because they are just the greatest kids". They all thanked me for what I said and the little 8-year old girl came over and gave me a hug before I headed back to our camp.

In a few minutes the oldest girl came by on her bike and told me thanks for coming down and saying what I did. I told her she was welcome and that I meant it, they were very sweet kids. Soon, the leader of the gang rode her bike over, stopped, got off her bike and walked over to me and said thanks for what I had told her family and then handed me a bracelet as a gift...one of those that kids make with a bunch of little rubber bands. She said her name was Evelyn, and got back on her bike and headed back to her camp.

(I'm not crying...you are.) 

She had just proven what I had told her family...what a sweet little girl.

Why the title Win...Win? 

Evelyn was a winner...because she had an adult other than her family, tell her she was a good person, that kindness is recognized by people, and hopefully she will continue to stay that way. Folks appreciate happy, cheerful, kind people. I hope as she grows, she'll remember the time the man at the campground came and told her family what a nice girl she was. 

And I won...because I realized there are still families out there who teach their children to be kind to others, to enjoy life and have fun. It's not a bad world out there...unless we make it that way. So don't.

REMEMBER: Some people are no nonsense, but personally...I like a little nonsense.

Be talkin' to ya.

Dad

A BUSY, EMOTIONAL WEEKEND

 

Girls

Friday night, we had the blessing of watching Owen walk across the stage to receive his high school diploma from Jefferson High School. He greeted, and was greeted, by many friends as they celebrated the completion of this stage of their life and prepare for the next. My mind can still see him, along with Anna and Mason, walking down 10th street from our house as they walked to Earhart Elementary. For that amount of time to pass so quickly that he was now graduating from high school was hard to fathom.

Saturday we watched Owen pitch in his last high school baseball game. It was very moving to watch as he walked off the mound for the last time. His long-time friend Brady walked out to the mound to share in a big hug, just the two of them. In their minds, maybe recalling all those years ( 9? ) of playing baseball together, the practices, the car and bus rides, the meals, the hotels, the trips, the close games, the ones that got away, the many victories shared as pitcher and catcher and the friendship deepened by it all. 

Then, one-by-one, the remaining on-field teammates walked over to give him a hug as well, showing their appreciation for all he did for the team. Even several of the opposing team players and fans applauded as he walked off the field. Owen was a well-respected, loved teammate and competitor and it showed. 

Sunday, we celebrated with a party at the Linder ranch as friends and family gathered to wish Owen congratulations and best wishes for the future. We have great pride in Owen and the challenges he faced head-on during his academic and athletic career, from grade school through high school. 

Academically, he was faithful to get his work done, he was respectful to his teachers and never created trouble for himself, his friends or the school.

Athletically, not everyone has the courage to shoot the basketball in pressure situations knowing your action may win, but also may lose the game for you, your teammates and the school you represent. Few players have the skills, or the desire, to be the guy on the mound, involved in every play that occurs, again knowing what you do may help your team to win, but also be the reason for a loss. 

Guts. Not everyone has them. Owen does. We are proud and excited to see where 'the kid with guts' goes next.

REMEMBER:  Be content with what you have, rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. – Lao Tzu

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

Family memories

Girls

A few days ago, your mom got news that her cousin Paul Hoalt had passed away unexpectedly. That was sad news to hear. Paul was such a fun-loving, nice guy. We knew him to always be in a good mood, laughing about whatever was happening at the time. Always kind. Always willing to help in any way. 

He was at mamaw’s funeral a few months ago and his last words to us was about seeing us at the next fish fry this fall. 

You see, every October Paul hosted a fish fry at his house in the country. He spent all spring and summer catching fish and freezing them, and then had all the family over to fry them up. Everyone else’s job was to bring some side dishes and eat up the fish. It was his way of keeping the Hoalt family reunion going. 

I’m sure you girls remember when we used to drive to Vincennes and meet at the park for mamaw’s Hoalt family reunion and the many, many people who were there. Mom’s uncles, aunts and many cousins along with new little kids and babies and lots and lots of food, horseshoes, baseball, talking and more talking and swings to swing in and slides to slide on. 

The fish fries at Paul’s house were equally well attended. It was a chance to catch up with everyone again if you hadn’t seen them since last year. 

I miss those old reunions in the park. And I will miss the fish fries at Paul’s house. I hope Paul’s brothers will find a way to keep the fish fry going. It would be a good way to honor Paul...and to keep those old comfortable memories going.

 

REMEMBER: If you don't take time to thank God for the good things, please don't blame Him for the bad things. 

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

APRIL 15, 2022...a Taxing Day

 
Girls. 

This is not one of my happier days each year. Not because taxes are due, in fact this year they’re not officially due until the 18^th. Last year, because of the pandemic, they were delayed to July 18. Nah, taxes never bothered me too much. I either owed a little or got a little back. Of course if I have the option, I’ll take getting tax money back. 

No, my reason for not liking this day is the sadness that has occurred on this date over the years. It’s just a day I’m happy to get over with. 

On April 15, 2003, we had to put our black lab Layla to rest. She had been a handicapped little girl that we got years before from a friend. Layla, as sometimes happens with labs and other big breed dogs, had hip dysplasia and thus had difficulty walking or running long distances. We got Layla the summer of 1993, a year after we moved to the house on Ortman Lane. There were some hard times for you girls then and it seemed that Layla was a good distraction for you. She needed your love, and you needed hers. She was a good fit in our family. But as she approached her 10^th birthday she was struggling to find the strength in those bad hips to stand, let alone do much else. It just wasn’t fair to keep her in agony so we took her to the vet and had her put to sleep and she rests in our garden all these years later. 

On April 15, 2012, while we were pulling into the parking lot at the Beef House in Covington to celebrate mamaw’s 80^th birthday, I got a call from Chris, my brother Dave’s wife, to say that Dave had died. I knew the day and the call was coming, I just didn't know when, and it’s the type of call you don’t ever want to get. When I last saw Dave, days before his passing, I lied to him, sorta. But it was a lie I had to say. My last words to him was that I loved him which of course was the truth. But I also told him I would be seeing him in Owensville. That wasn’t a lie in my mind because I knew I would be seeing him in Owensville, but I was saying it because that’s what Chris wanted to hear. You see, Chris was hoping to drive Dave to Indiana to seek better health care for him in Indiana because she was unhappy with what she was hearing the doctors in California tell them. She was in denial that Dave was not going to get better, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew Dave would never survive the trip to Owensville. But to not cause any more fuss than was needed, I said “I’ll see you in Owensville”. But I knew, in truth, I would be seeing him at Holder’s Funeral Home in Owensville, where he would come to be taken to his final resting place. 

On April 15, 2015, when your mom, mamaw and I were in Florida, I got a call while we were having a sandwich at the mall. It was from our friend Sara who was responsible for us getting Sam, our black lab that we rescued the year before. Sam was at Sara’s farm with the rest of her large crew of dogs. Part of our agreement with Sara when we got Sam was that when mom & I needed to travel, Sam could stay at the farm while we were gone. So while we were in Florida on this trip, that’s where we took Sam. That call from Sara was maybe tougher than any call I had taken in a long time. Sara told me there had been an accident at the farm and 10 of the dogs perished in the accident…and one of them was Sam. 

It's hard to hear the date April 15, without thinking of the struggles we’ve had related to that day. I’ll have to continue working each year, as we celebrate old mamaw’s birthday on April 15, to forget the sadness and instead remember the good times with Layla, Dave, Sam…and mamaw.   

REMEMBER: Never run away from a gun. Bullets can travel faster than you can. 

                            – Wild bill hickock/gunfighter

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

AMAZING WORLD OF MEDICINE

Girls

It is now 1-week post-op from moms' open-heart surgery. We are amazed to think that your moms’ chest was cut open, a new valve put in, and now home recovering, all in the space of one week. We are in a wonderful, amazing time in the field of medicine and so grateful for it. 

I think back to the early 70’s when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, the early 80’s when my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer and late 80’s when my sister Joan was diagnosed with breast cancer. Treatments, surgeries and therapies in those days were – not barbaric – but were certainly not easy. Those loved ones were part of the 'test patient population' for how to treat patients with cancer. Many methods were experimental, were a “let’s try this because we don’t know what else to try” method, in hopes it helped the patient, or gave the medical field the knowledge of what to-do, what not-to-do, or what to try next. The thought process was not to save the patients' life, but to buy them some extra time.

Because of those family members and their sacrifice, and many patients just like them, improvements came, sometimes slowly, but they came. When 2010 arrived and I was diagnosed with prostate cancer, many advances had been made from the time my dad had the same diagnosis. Early detection tests had been perfected, surgical methods had improved, medications were advanced, so much so that now, 12 years later, I remain cancer free. 

Over a decade has passed since my surgery and I know improvements have been made. I hope in the next decade there will be another exponential growth in improvement of treatments, testing and surgical methods. 

Five years ago when your mom was diagnosed with a failing heart valve, as the cardiologist told us surgery was in her future, our first thoughts and concern was knowing her sternum would be sawed open to gain access and the pain that would follow as she tried to recover from that surgery. Five years later, when we were told by that same cardiologist that it was now time to replace that valve, improvements had been so dramatic in those 5 years that your mother, (even though she still had her sternum sawed open), her pain level was nearly non-existent. She was sitting up in a chair the following morning. She stood up and took a few steps later that night. Days later she was walking the halls and the following day she was on her way home. 

We are amazed. 

We are grateful. 

We are blessed.

REMEMBER: Be yourself; everyone else is taken. - Oscar Wilde, writer

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

BUTTER

Girls

While fixing some toast for breakfast this morning and putting a slab of butter on it after it popped out of the toaster, I had a flashback to 55+ years ago. 

I moved from little Owensville to bigger Vincennes in June 1962 when I was 8 years old. I had a long summer as I was new and knew no one. I met a few guys from the nearby area but just got to know them enough to say hi and maybe play some baseball on a nearby diamond, but more times than not, I was just hanging around our place, passing time. 

When I went to school that fall one of my first friends' I met was Jimmy Miller. All these years later, Jimmy remains one of my great friends. Jimmy’s parents, Jim and Virginia, and his siblings, David, Richard and Ann, lived out in the country. I used to ride the bus with Jimmy to his house after school on Friday’s and spend the night (sometimes the whole weekend). 

In the morning, Virginia made breakfast for the 7 of us which most of the time consisted of cereal and toast. The toast always had a slab of cold butter in the middle of it when she handed it to me and I was often baffled with what to do with the butter. At home, we didn’t have a toaster so dad would take the bread, put a glob of butter in the middle of it and then put it in the broiler pan in the oven so the toast came out browned and the butter melted while in the oven. It was so good. 

Back at Jimmy’s, by the time Virginia made 7 or more slices of toast in the toaster and then put the butter on it, the toast had cooled down and the butter hadn’t melted. I didn’t know what to do with that pat of butter and I would try to spread it out but usually didn’t have much luck. So I would end up taking a bite of toast and this big lump of cold butter. Ugh. 

(Maybe that’s why we keep our butter out in the room so it’s warm when we put it on the toast. I’m guessing Virginia kept her butter in the fridge so it was pretty stiff when she cut it to put it on the toast that was already cooling down.) 

Anyway, when I fixed my toast this morning and put my slab of butter on, it took me back to the Miller house long ago. 

I have so many wonderful memories of the Miller family home. I was there so often, Jim and Virginia referred to me as their 4^th son. They were always so kind, giving and supportive of me that over time they became an extra set of parents for me. They no longer were Jim & Virginia, they became “ma and pops”. They are still alive today and in their late 80’s. When in Vincennes I always try to make a trip out to the country to say hi and give them a hug. 

(Speaking of my dad’s toast, once in a while Jimmy would come stay at my house and dad would fix breakfast the next morning. Jimmy told me in recent years that a memory he has of my dad is the great toast he made for breakfast.) 

Maybe Jimmy didn’t know what to do with his mom’s butter either. (smiley face)

REMEMBER: Believe in this world that there is meaning behind everything.

Be talkin’ to ya.

Dad

DECISIONS

 

Girls

50 years ago today, my mom died. I had just turned 18 years old, in another 6 weeks mom would have turned 60. I made a selfish decision a few days before her death that I have thought about for 50 years. 

Cindy and I had had our first date just the week before, on January 15^th. Before heading home after our date, I asked Cindy if she’d like to go out again the next weekend, on January 21^st, and she said, “sure.” 

A few days after that first date, dad said Jean had called him to say my mom was in her last days. (She had been diagnosed with advancing breast cancer and it was taking its’ toll quickly.) Dad told me he was going to fly to Atlanta to be with mom and Jean and asked if I wanted to go. Two things quickly popped into my head. One, if I went, I would not be able to go on my date with Cindy, which I really wanted to do. Two, I didn’t want to remember mom as how I was going to see her in her last days. I told dad I did not want to go. (I had done the same thing when my brother Durward was killed in a car accident a few years earlier. In some private family time prior to his funeral, we were going to be allowed to open the casket to see Durward. Afterwards, his funeral was going to be a closed casket ceremony at dads’ request. Dad, mom, Joan and Jean asked me if I wanted to go to the funeral home with them and I said I didn’t want to remember Durward that way so I did not go with them to the viewing.) 

Dad flew to Atlanta without me and by the time he arrived, mom was incoherent and likely didn’t know if anyone was there with her or not. At least, that’s what I have told myself for 50 years. And that’s the part I have struggled with…did she know I wasn’t there? The fact was, I wasn’t there. 

Instead, on January 21^st, I went on my scheduled date with Cindy. I didn’t say anything to her about mom until I took her home when I said, “it may be a few days before I see you again….my mom died today.” I have never asked her what she thought of me after she had a chance to let that comment sink in. Did she think…what kind of guy would go out on a date the night his mother died? She had not met my dad yet and I had not talked about him or mom before that night. 

The next day dad and I headed to Owensville to start the process of putting mom to rest over the following few days. When I returned home a few days later, I quickly had a new impression of your mom. 

Even though we had dated less than 2 weeks, we had been friends for over 5 years. Cindy and I had been classmates in school since the start of 7^th grade. We were in EVERY class together in 7^th and 8^th grade, along with about 25 other kids. Because of that, that group of kids became very close friends, spending every school hour together for 2 years. As we moved on to high school, we were no longer always in the same classes but that group of kids continued our close friendship. I was dating other girls and your mom was dating other boys, but we were still friends. Then in January of senior year we started dating each other. And after only our second date, and returning home from Owensville, Cindy had sealed our relationship, in my mind. For when I got home, there was a card stuck under the windshield wiper of my car. It was a sympathy card from Cindy to me. As I read the card, I immediately said to myself…this is the kind of person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I had never had that feeling about any girl before. 

Decisions. 

I made a decision to not go see my mom in her last days. Your mom made a decision to leave me a sympathy card for the loss of my momma. I made a decision that I wanted to be with her from that day forward. And I have been. 

Decisions. 

We make a lot of them, some good, some not so good. All of them are a part of shaping our lives. Some of them change your life, forever.

REMEMBER: Love one another and you will be happy. It’s as simple and as difficult as that.

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

STRUGGLES.....and LOVE

Girls

My thoughts today are on our 3 big kids…no not you, you’re our biggest kids. Eleanor, Liam and Ruby are our three little kids. No, I’m thinking of Anna, Mason and Owen. 

We had a good time last night watching Owen playing basketball, a nail biter of a game. He played well but I know at the same time he is fighting internal struggles...just like Anna...and just like Mason. The three of them are at that stage of life where they are trying to find themselves. What do they want to do, and how do they get there? We want their picture to be clearer than what it is, but we realize we can’t control all of that. It will happen, when it happens.

I think back to my teen years and the challenges I battled. My mom and her issues, my dad and how I idolized him and was angry with him at the same time. Our lack of money. Our living conditions. My geeky body. It was all self-pity. Only as I got older did I realize those battles I faced, and the many scars they created, were mostly self-inflicted. And I realized those battles and scars made me a better person for having gone through them. I was so self-absorbed I didn’t take into consideration that mom had no control over how she was…and that dad was doing the best he could. I didn’t take note of the love that they both had for me as well as the support my siblings (who were often my co-parents) had for me. They wanted the best for me, encouraged me, and praised me, but not until I was older and a little wiser did I realize it and learned to appreciate what they did for me and recognize the battles they were facing of their own at the same time. 

The same thing will happen for Anna, Mason and Owen. They will eventually find their way. And when they get older, they will realize the struggles they have faced, are facing and will face were all a part of the growing-up phase of life. It will make them better people, more empathetic, more accepting, more loving. They will realize and recognize the love and support that was always there for them from their family and they will give it back to those who gave it to them and even be willing to share it with others. 

We are always a parent. Just as our parents worried about us, we worried about you girls growing up, and we still worry now. You worry for your children as well. As grandparents, we worry about your children (our grandchildren) too. Parenting never stops.

Love from family helped pull me through. I hope and believe you feel it helped pull you girls through, and it will pull your children through too.  

Love. It’s a powerful thing.

REMEMBER: Learning what you don’t want to do is the next best thing to figuring out what you do want to do.

Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad

 

January 1, 1972

Girls
 
Fifty years ago, I was at a party at my friend, Byron Haflich’s, house, along with about 30-40 classmates and friends. My high school class, for the most part, seemed to be a close group that were also friends with the other classes, and it was pretty common to have BIG parties. On this night, Byron’s parents were not home and it was a good reason to have a party at his house. Of course, part of the celebration was that it was New Year’s Day, but for my group of about 10 close guy friends, it was also for celebrating my birthday.
 
I even got a gift from the guys. Well, I say that lightly because I’m not sure it was from the group. My friend Mark Morgan gave me an 8-track player for my car. Mark worked at Schmitt Auto, a car parts store in Vincennes and he bought the 8-track player there. As he gave it to me, he said “we all pitched in to buy you a new 8-track player.” Knowing Mark as I do now, I’m guessing he bought it with his own money but wanted to give credit to the other guys, to make them feel good and to make me feel good that it was coming from everyone. As a back-story, 8-track players were the cool thing to have in your car in those days and I had had one, but someone broke into my car on prom night of my junior year and stole it. So, Mark was being kind and replacing my stolen one. Mark was a good guy.
 
Meanwhile at the party, while lots of folks were milling around the house, partying, I was at the dinner table with 3 other guys playing euchre. Several other people were standing around the table watching us and rooting us on and one of our classmates, Cindy Irvin, was looking over my shoulder and said at one point, “I don’t understand this game, so I don’t know how to play it.” I pulled up a chair and told her to sit down by me and I’d teach her how to play.
 
The night went on into the wee hours. Most of our gang of 10 and a few stragglers stayed overnight at Byron’s. Cindy and the other 40-or-so people went home at some point.
 
The next Saturday, January 8, another party broke out, this time at Lucy McGiffin’s house, which was out on the edge of town. Again, her parents were gone so….party time. Again, lots of folks, lots of mingling, and eventually 4 of us sitting at a table playing euchre. Sure enough, Cindy Irvin is there and I spot her and ask her to sit down by me and I’ll teach her some more about euchre. As the night is beginning to wind down for some, Jimmy Miller comes running into the house to say, “Ruth Obermeyer just ran over herself.” We all ran out into the yard and it had gotten very foggy out. There were lots of cars out in the front yard and while trying to back out and get her car in the driveway to leave, Ruth opened her car door to lean out to make sure she wasn’t going to hit anyone’s car, and she fell out and her car kept rolling and the front wheel ran over her leg. We called for an ambulance and they came and got her, among a yard full of cars, and took her to the hospital. Why there weren’t any police officers that came along I’m not sure, but we were happy because we would all have been in deep doo-doo. While we were standing outside watching the action, I had my coat on and Cindy didn’t, so I did the ‘gentlemanly’ thing and took my coat off and put it around her. It hung on her like I had put a 5-XXX jacket on her…but I thought I was cool. The party began to wrap up shortly after 'the Ruth thing' but before I left, I asked Miss Irvin if she would like to go out on a date the next Saturday. I was so excited when she said, 'sure'.
 
I don’t think we talked much to each other at school during the week, probably as I was nervous and stupid and worried she might change her mind…but on Saturday, January 15, 1972, I picked her up for our first date and we had a great night together, going to see movie and driving around the main drag seeing all our friends. As I took her home, I asked if she’d like to go out the next Friday, and as fate would have it…she said YES.

That...was the start.  50 years ago!

Be talkin' to ya.

Dad