When I think back to my earliest memories of my dad, I remember his heavy-as-lead gold Schwinn stationary exercise bike, which was kept, at the time, in my parent's bedroom.
My Dad was a bike racer in his prime, and his Dad owned a bicycle (sporting goods) store. My Dad repaired bicycles for a job when he and my Mom were first married. I think he earned $2.25/hour..., my mom could tell you.
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| At another baseball game of my sons, and my dad doesn't even like baseball! But he does like his grandsons! |
As a young girl, under age 5, my Dad was pretty much a superhero.
He had thick dark hair, and equally thick dark-rimmed glasses. My Dad went to work in a suit and tie, selling exotic things like copy machines. At night my dad would write poetry in a thick, leather-bound, lined journal. I remember watching him write in cursive and being amazed at how fast he wrote and fascinated that he would dot his i's and cross his t's after he finished writing the word.
My Dad also was a great typist. He had high-tech typewriters, and he sold those too. He taught me how to change out the ribbon and the correction tape.
My Dad was totally cutting-edge and talented, as far as I was concerned.
My dad would tell stories about foxes and rabbits and, like "Peter and the Wolf", play music to illustrate the action.
If I continued at this rate I would never make it through the next three decades of my life!
There were moves, new business ventures that would fail, many new siblings for me along the way...and it wasn't always easy (ever easy?) for my parents, but you know what? It was a glorious and exciting adventure for me!
I loved growing up in my family.
It's only now that I can appreciate what my Dad did for us.
And you know, now that I am beyond that 5-year-old girl who idolized her father, I can assure you that my father is absolutely a superhero!
There are other images that stand out. I can't really separate my Dad from his rosary, or his devotion to the Perpetual Adoration Chapel. My Dad praying outside of the abortion clinics. My Dad reading his spiritual reading at the breakfast table.
And now, my Dad as a grandfather to my own children. I do have nine of them. My sisters have thirteen more.
My Dad teaching his grandchildren to keep their bikes out of the rain. To keep their bike tires at proper air pressure. My Dad reading them the classics. Many classics. Years and years of reading to his grandchildren (not only mine). He had read to us, too. Or teaching them French. Did I mention how much my Dad loves France?
Anyway, this little tribute is such a small snippet of all the things my Dad is, but I'm happy to have a tiny amount recorded here. He deserves to be reminded of just a bit of who he is to me, and to all of us.
I love you, Dad!
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