I received an email the other day from a woman who was sharing about the recent passing of her father (the day after Christmas), and care-giving. I was able to relate as I remembered the passing of my Dad before the holidays four years ago. With his passing, and helping my Mom with the day to day things that he used to do (my sister more than any of us as she lives close by), the mind tends to realize that it won’t be long before we, too will be (hopefully) collecting social security, on Medicare, and thinking about things like medigap policies to help cover things Medicare doesn’t. You begin to educate yourself about things that you usually don’t want to take the time to think about.
Dad did the best he knew how to prepare for these things, and Mom, with a bit of help, has done a great job learning to do things she never had to do before as far as paying bills, handling medical papers, and so much more. I appreciate my parents, and am realizing that some old posts about my Dad and Mom have probably gotten “lost” in the blog over time, so let me give you some links to special posts about them done from as early as 2007 to the present:
I join many today who remember Neil Armstrong stepping down from the Apollo 11 spacecraft and making that first small step on the moon…I was working at a summer camp in New Hampshire during summer break from high school 40 years ago today, it was getting close to dinner time here on the east coast. We stayed in a dorm-type setting, and there were people camping with campers and tents in the campground.
Many of us gathered around a particular camper that had a screened-in section and television set up on their picnic table. The TV screen was small, the picture black and white, and the image was snowy and a bit difficult to see, but we did see that amazing moment when Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon and the footage that followed.
The space program was important to our family…my Dad was working for the aeronautics division of a company at the time, an electrical engineer, and designed parts for air and space travel. When Kennedy declared that we were going to go to the moon, it was a boost to the industry, and more job security and new jobs for people who did work like my father did. I remember in particular one of the unmanned viking missions for which he had designed a part that was to allow an arm to reach out and scoop up soil samples. I remember him watching and listening intently to the news that day to see if what he had designed had worked. His name is up there on the moon somewhere as everyone who had a part in the designing had their name sent up to the moon with the ship. Exactly how that was done, or where the names are, I don’t remember as I type right now off the top of my head, but do know that is a part of our family history stored away somewhere in my papers.
So today is not only a wonderful memory of an amazing historic moment, but brings back fond memories of my Dad.
Father’s Day has come and gone, but my thoughts about Dad haven’t. I have had him on my mind a lot in the days proceeding Father’s Day and since. The picture is one of my daddy holding me when I was a baby, I had the honor of making him a “daddy” for the first time.
Before Dad became disabled due to strokes, Father’s Day was usually celebrated here at my home on our deck overlooking the lake. The last Father’s Day that stands out most clearly in my mind was when Dad was well, and my Grandfather was still alive and visiting my parents from Massachusetts. It was a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for barbecuing on the deck. The whole family was there, including my sister with her then boyfriend. He took advantage of the day to borrow our rowboat, take my sister out on the lake, and propose to her.
This year we took a ride to the cemetery to visit Dad’s grave and thank the Lord that he is now in heaven with Him. I talked more about that on my New Jersey Baby Boomer blog.
During my childhood “Good Friday” was good because we would be dying eggs, and in a day or two I was going to be hunting for Easter Eggs. I knew it was also a day that we took special time to remember Jesus dying on the cross to pay the penalty for our sins, but as a child, the fun part of it seemed more important. The depth of meaning of what Jesus did came later.
When we were children, there was a point where my parents decided that we would do our Easter Egg hunting on Saturday morning rather than Sunday morning, so that we could have fun on Saturday, then focus on the joyful significance of Easter on Sunday. My husband and I carried that tradition on with our own children. I remember going to sunrise services some Easter mornings, not every year, but several years. I remember wearing dressy cloths on Easter; a frilly dress, a nice Easter bonnet, white gloves, and white patent leather shoes. From Easter on the bright colorful spring cloths were what you were supposed to wear, no more dark colors of winter.
Being raised by a father that was an intellectual, I approached new things with some skepticism and researched almost everything that I was told about anything, including the reality of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ on a cross for my/our sins. Being raised by a mother who accepted things easily by faith, I learned that there is a point where you have to put aside skepticism and by faith, believe in what is written in the Bible about what Jesus did for us on the cross. Then when I was old enough to think for myself, some very real spiritual things happened within me, it is hard to explain, I just knew that I knew that it was all true and real, and that God and I had a close relationship because of what Jesus had done on that cross…”The Old Rugged Cross”, do you remember that song? I’m going to try and write the words from memory, there may be a mistake or two, but here goes:
On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross,
the emblem of suffering and shame,
and I love that old cross, where the dearest and best,
for a world of lost sinners was slain,
So I’ll cherish that old rugged cross,
till my trophies at last I lay down,
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
and exchange it one day for a crown.
How did I do? These are words with great meaning.
Since Mel Gibson’s “Passion of the Christ” movie was produced, I try to watch it on Good Friday, I can’t bear watching the beatings, and have to turn away, but it impresses on me the reality of what was done.
But Easter Morning is a celebration, a celebration of the fact that Jesus conquered death, rose again, and because He did so, those who believe that He is who He said He is, and that He did what He said He did, can look forward to living forever with him and all those who have believed before. It can’t get any better than that.
Wishes for a wonderful weekend from our home to yours.
My first car was a “hand-me-down” from my Dad, his old Plymouth Valiant station wagon with it’s slanted-six engine, and standard shift on the column. It was Grey, I learned to drive in that car with my Dad at my side, but when it became my car, I painted large colorful flowers on it, wearing my fringed vest and leather headband. I had my first accident in that car…slamming into the back of a car which in turn slammed into a Cadillac in front of it…why just mess up one car when you can mess up two? Actually I felt terrible and broke down and cried, and was happy no one was hurt. I guess Dad must have handled all of the insurance matters, I don’t remember him getting angry or saying much about it…one of those things you think about in retrospect and wish your parent was there to thank them for.
Getting to the 1964 Mustang…which, by the way, made it’s debut 44 years ago today, I didn’t get mine new. After wrecking the station wagon, I went out car-shopping and it was love at first sight when I saw the used 1964 Mustang in good condition, white, with a black vinyl roof, 4-on-the-floor stick shift, and most important of all, a radio that worked. I went home and asked my Dad to come with me to help me buy the car…he was great at dealing. At one point, however, I was a wreck, because he told the salesman that if he didn’t take the price we were offering, we would be leaving, I watched in horror as he began to stand to leave, and open-mouthed just looked at him and started to get up myself honoring my Dad’s decision, but the salesman said “just one minute”, left the room, and came back, and sold the car for what my Dad offered. That was a great lesson to me. Wish you were here to hug ya, Dad, thanks.We’ll get into the accident that I had with that car another time….maybe.
This post was originally written on September 19th of this year, before I moved the blog to this new location:
It’s a little after midnight, so it’s officially September 19th. I’ve been thinking about it on and off all day, Dad’s birthday is today, and he would have been 83. Dad wasn’t much for having a fuss made over him, but Mom never liked a birthday to go by without some kind of celebration, and Dad loved Mom enough to go along with it.
I really don’t have big memories about his family birthday celebrations, but do remember his last birthday 2 years ago. Much of the Dad I knew had been slowly slipping away due to several strokes over a 5 year period, but he was sitting up in his chair when I went to see him. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt, probably one I had given him on a previous birthday. I gave him a bottle of his favorite aftershave with a balloon tied to it, he loved balloons, they had become a tradition. He tried so hard to communicate, but I was happy just to see him smile warmly at me. I’ll never forget that day. I didn’t know then that my daddy would only be here for exactly one more month to the day. Happy birthday Daddy, I miss you and look forward to celebrations to come in heaven!!
When I was quite small, it wasn’t uncommon for all of us - my 2 brothers, sister, Mom, and myself with Dad driving - to pile into the car and go out for a Sunday drive. We lived in Central Jersey at the time, and my Dad would take us to an airport nearby to watch planes take off and land. He loved planes, maybe because he worked as an engineer in the aeronautics department of his company. It was fun to watch the planes.
I have a vivid memory of asking my Dad about the “thing on the pole” that blew one way or another, or just hung there. I received a great lesson on what a wind sock is, and how it helps the pilots with take offs and landings, the part the wind plays in flying. I don’t remember a lot of the details of what my Dad said, but I do remember his voice, and how special it was to have a rare moment like that with him. He went to school nights for 10 years to get his degree, worked during the days, and studied at night…so yes, those moments were rare treasures. The picture shows him holding me when I was less than a year old.
