Happy Birthday Dad

76 years on this earth. For a rock that's not very long. According to my dad he hasn't entered old fart stage and I agree. I suppose if I could give him the ultimate gift it would be unlimited golf with unlimited mobility with definite limited aches and pains. And steady 70 degree weather with a slight breeze. Oh, and don't forget the golf cart and beer. No slow four-somes ahead either. Unless they're funny to watch.

I'd make my dad "navy" eggs with bacon, sausage and toast for breakfast. Gotta have some orange juice and coffee with two teaspoons of sugar. Or nowadays, the fake stuff that's better for you. For a snack we'd have kipper snacks on crackers.

I wasn't there when the picture above was taken, but I like it. It really captures my dad's personality. Active, happy being outdoors, just about always smiling about something. He already knows I love him and I know he's the best dad ever but I thought I'd go ahead and tell the rest of the world just so everyone could stop wondering. Give it up, I've got the best. Love you Dad!

The Pool

I thought since I'd mentioned the pool previously that I should find a picture of it. I found one with Kissee posing quite nicely, but the pool is only partially visible. I think Dan took this picture from the roof. He was probably rigging the bucket in the tree that eventually fell on my head causing mom to take me to the emergency room. Another story.

I do recall many many good times in that pool. We were fortunate in that the pool was heated and we could swim year 'round. Not like it snowed in the San Fernando Valley, but hey it got chilly. I think. Anyway, I remember one day there was steam coming off of the water and mom let me go swimming all by myself while she watched from inside, which was somewhat unusual in itself. Normally we had to have some type of supervision outside, even if it was an older sibling, who if I remember correctly wouldn't have cared if we drowned or not. At least not until an adult found out.

In any case there I was swimming all by my lonesome with the fog laying on top of the water like something out of the Creature from the Black Lagoon when it started to rain. I went underwater and felt like I was on another planet. I could hear the rain and see it hitting the top of the water and I was nice and toasty and totally insulated from the outside world. Until I ran out of breath that is. At which point I had to come up and get pelted in the head. It was quite a remarkable experience. I loved that pool.

I Think - Therefore I Am

I do my best thinking in the shower and while I'm blow drying my hair. My thoughts just flow like water into a clear pool going from one thought seamlessly into the next. I wish I could write like that, instead of being like so many of the rivers here where the water flows over different sized rocks and boulders to splash wildly in many directions and sometimes to flow easy and then appear to sit with no apparent movement. Maybe I need to learn to type as fast as my mind thinks. Or to speak into a voice activated recorder over the blow dryer as I think. The problem is I don't think as I speak. At least I don't think I do. I don't speak as I think, that's for sure. OR is that I don't talk like I think? Rain for two days is making my mind mush.

Ah, they grow so fast

So a few years later someone had the foresight to see that we were all properly dressed and I'm thinking it must have been about 1967. I think this because Guy (that baby again) swam like a fish when he was 4, and if you look closely behind us all, the pool was in the process of being built. I am wearing the one and only garment that mom sewed for me. That green jumper with yellow circles. Isn't it lovely? Karen looks so hip and groovy!! I can almost imagine those white knee boots! Dan, who by the by turns 55 today looks nothing like a hippie. In fact we all look like we're ready for church!

The Fireplace Picture

I don't recall any professional family pictures being taken - only school pictures. There were tons of pictures taken, mostly by my mother and they were kept in a hope chest which was filled to the brim. The majority of the pictures were kept in the photo envelope with our name and address on the outside and a lot of the pictures had a small copy attached that you could tear off and give away (I guess). Or put in a wallet I suppose, but most of the small ones are still attached to the bigger ones.

One of the pictures that to this days remains one of my favorites is "The Fireplace Picture" of the four of us kids on the hearth of our brick fireplace. There are only a few "posed" pictures of the four of us together and this is one and its a doozy. We look pretty rag tag in what appears to be our best play clothes. Our hair looks like it hasn't been brushed and it is apparent we were rushed into posing for this picture out of whatever probable summer activity we were involved in, and we most likely ran right back to. Baby Guy is only wearing a diaper which indicates the time prepared in planning this photo op.

So after loving this picture for-ever, I finally asked Dad whose idea it was and why we hadn't been dressed for it. His response? "I thought you were dressed for church!" Like I thought I'd get a straight answer.

Have a great week!

What's For Dinner?

I grew up in Granada Hills, California during the 60's in an Ozzie and Harriet type family and can honestly say I had the best childhood. Until they brought my little brother home from the hospital. I was quite happy as the baby in the family and don't know why they had to change the two girl/one boy ratio to two each. But they did and eventually I adjusted. Okay, I'm still adjusting.

My Dad, who is this year going to be a lively 76 years old, has always been the comic in the family and I just love spending time with him. He's always got a joke and an innocent look no matter how guilty he may or may not be in a prank. (more of 'those' pranks later and I'm sure more guilt than innocence despite the facial expression)

Growing up when one of the four of us kids would ask, "What's for dinner?" my Dad would always answer "Fish heads and rice." I don't know why. I suppose I should ask. It was never, not even once, ever served at our dinner table. But the threat was there on any and every occassion and opportunity.


Welcome to my blog. I'll have fish heads with my rice please.