It is a day in which we honor the men and women who paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country. It has also become known as the "unofficial" start of summer. Many years ago in a galaxy far far away (Central Illinois) school was out and all I had to worry about from hear on out was how was I going to stuff so much fishing, swimming, playing ball, and other mischief into a three month period called summer vacation. I'm not sure if it was ever 104 days, as Phineous and Ferb like to point out, but it seemed longer as a kid.
One thing I remember most about this day however was getting into the car with the family and heading to multiple graves of my ancestors. I didn't understand the significance of the gestures and all the elaborate floral arrangements so I just thought it was cutting into my time to do all the things boys liked to do in the summer. I now get it. I take time today to talk/write about a World War II veteran, my dad.
Thirteen years ago (May 4, 1998) my father left this world. My mother called me early that morning and we rushed from our home about fifty minutes away. When I got to my parents home I was met by the coroner and it was then that it hit me that he was actually gone. My mom in her panic hadn't actually told me dad was gone she told me that I needed to come. I am not sure about you but when your mother calls you at 3:00 am and tells you to come, you come. At least that is how it was in my family. My wife, Jule, and I came into a condominium that had coffee brewing and people shooting the bull around a kitchen table telling stories about my dad. Neighbors were there from their retirement village, as was my brother Dave, who lived with mom and dad. I went back to the room where my dad was took a deep breath and went in to pay my last respects.
My dad was older than most of my friends dads. He was 46 when I was born. I am the youngest of three boys and my dad was retired from working soon after I entered school. I got to know a different man than did my other two brothers. My dad and I took up golf at about the same time and although I have pretty much given up the sport (at least for now) my father loved to smack the ball around up until his first stroke about seven years prior to his passing. He actually got pretty good. I inherited his love for Cardinal baseball and he would drive his family down to St. Louis a few times every summer to watch the likes of Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Ted Simmons and later Ozzie Smith and Vince Coleman. I remember one time when just dad and I went to the then Springfield Redbirds, the Cardinals AAA ball club and we were sitting behind the parents of a Cardinal pitcher, Dave LaPoint, whom my dad and I had heard was just called up to the majors. His parents hadn't heard the new yet until someone from the ball club had come to inform them. They were there to watch him pitch that night. Luckily St. Louis was just a couple hours away.
My dad taught me to drive, sort of, he was the one who went out with me when I practiced driving. Dad was so calm and patient with me, unlike how he was when he actually drove, that everything usually went smooth. He would take me all over Central Illinois looking at farm land that we owned and eventually we would end up back in the garage of our home in Hickory Point Court.
Soon after I got my license I kinds became the unofficial driver of the home. My brother John used to hold this honor but he went and got married and moved near Chicago. One reason why I got this honor was because my father thought the brake pedal was the accelerator, not really but it seemed like it. My mom drove almost everywhere we went and by the time I could drive she was ready for a break.
I can also thank my dad for the love of fishing I have. We went to the Ozarks every summer up until I was in middle school and we would fish. For about three years we changed our venue to Minnesota where all we did was fish. One time in Minnesota my dad and I were to go out with our guide to a lake that had larger fish, pike and walleye. My dad had a terrible fever the night before and it looked like we might never be able to go on the trip. However, my dad woke up to tell me he had made it possible for me to go with our guide alone. We caught tons of fish that day, from pike to walleye to all different species. My dad greeted us when we got back to the lodge and wanted to hear about the whole trip. My dad was a great listener.
One of my favorite times I spent with dad fishing was our last. He was pretty bad off from his stroke and I planned it with mom to take him to our local lake and sit on the bank and catch panfish which was all we did. Our roles had reversed, I baited his hook and even cast his line out. He caught a few small ones which I removed from the hook and threw back. After we had our fill of fish we got in the car and headed to Steak 'n Shake and had lunch. Dad got home that day and told mom all about the day and couldn't stop beaming from ear to ear my mom later told me.
As the tears cloud my eyes I am going to end this post today.
