by Jackie

Rich and I brought some Handles Chocolate Pecan Ice Cream to dad for his birthday. Dad wanted to show Rich some problem with the light in the family room so we all went into the family room except Mom. She was confined to the chair in the corner and about every fifteen minutes she would yell in (over the air conditioner) ok you guys can come in here now. The results were that dad got to talk much more than normal because mom wasn't interrupting and correcting him. I wrote this the next day. 

I want no tears only smiles please.

June 23, 1998 was an ordinary day for ordinary people, but not for me. This was the day of Dad's 75th birthday.

He said this was the first time in his life that he actually felt his age. Knowing dad we all understand this. He was never overweight, or wrinkled. His point of view towards life in general was amusing. Honestly I believe him to be the most likeable person I ever knew.  (Of course I'm prejudice.)

Think about it he had been hit by a car and left at the side of the road for dead. He had suffered 4 heart attacks. Lived with mom for all those years and worked to raise and support 7 children all on his income. Like a cat he had 9 lives. 

Now at age 75 he had used up those 9 lives. The leukemia was shrinking him before our eyes. Some days were very bad for him, but this day, June 23, 1998 was not.

This day is implanted in my heart. Rich and I went to visit him for his birthday and to my delight the visit was one that will stay with me forever.

He spoke of his relatives (many long gone), Aunt Flora, Aunt Margie, Aunt Lena, Cousin Bulla, and cousin Chester, all names of a different era. I'm glad his name was Jack or I could have been called Chesterline instead of Jacqueline.

He spoke of the day when he was about 9 years old, (this would have been 1932), his mother told him and his brother Bill they were not to go sledding or they would get hurt. Boys will be boys, and as their sled rounded a corner it slid sideways and his brother slipped off, breaking his wrist. 

When they return home his mom said, I told you boys you would get hurt. No yelling, no punishing, just a few soft-spoken words.  (These soft-spoken words stayed with him forever.) 

"That's just how my mom was," Dad said. "She never yelled she just spoke softly. Of course I told her, 'but mommy I didn't get hurt.'" This sounded funny coming from the lips of a 75 year old man, but I guess mommy is always mommy to each child no matter how old they are.

Dad's uncle pulled his brothers wrist and straightened it the best he could. They put a splint on it and that was it. No long drawn out ordeal in an emergency room.

Dad spoke of his cousin having the first edition of the game of Monopoly. They played it until there was no printing left on the board. Pencil lines separated the squares and they had memorized the name of each place represented in those squares.

Daddy was very pleased with his 75th birthday for several reasons. One was that through the years he had often wondered if he'd make it to the next century, and what it would be like if he did. I've almost made it, he said, I've come closer than I thought I would.

For fathers day that year I had bought him a new jar of Utter Cream. So on his birthday when the physical therapist came to visit him he was well supplied with utter cream and she had used it to give him his rub down that day. 

That evening he told us that his skin was so smooth and silky that he was having trouble sitting on a chair without sliding off. She gave me a kiss too, he said, I told her it wasn't really my birthday, my birthday was Thursday, (the next time she was scheduled to visit.)

Many emotions surrounded this day for me. Most little girls, if they are lucky, have a kind of love affair with their fathers. I am one of those lucky girls.

If God so wishes and I live to my 75th birthday as I am rubbing the Utter Cream on my hopefully not-to wrinkled face, I hope my mind is good enough to remember Dads 75th birthday, and how absolutely utterly unordinary daddy was.