Milestones and Memories

Daddy © By Evan L. Salcido
Daddy
In the heart of everyone, young or old,

Lies memories of a special man.
They remember football,

And how this man came to see them play.
They remember school,

And how he encouraged them each day.
They remember ice cream,

And his readiness to oblige.
They remember playgrounds,

And how he'd take them down the slide.
They remember monsters,

And when he fought them off.
They remember sickness,

And his wince at every cough.
They remember graduation,

And his face lit with pride.
They remember marriage,

And the man steadfast by their side.
These men want no payment,

They desire no reward.
These men only want to hear four words,

'I love you, Daddy'

My daddy turned 80 years old yesterday. He is my hero. The man I look to when I have a problem or need comfort. He has always been there for me, to pick me up and kick me in the ass and send me on my way throughout my life. We haven't always seen eye to eye ( our personalities are too similar for that to ever happen) and there were times when we didn't speak for a while but in the end I always knew that he was right and I came around.

When I was very young, dad drove semi and was gone 4-5 days of the week sometimes coming home in the middle of the night. It was great to wake up and find him there the next morning but we had to be quiet so he could sleep. I remember a few times when my mom would wax the wood floors and my dad would hit one of the scatter rugs with his sock feet and go down for the count in the dark, man were there some fireworks then!!! Course us kids thought it was funnier then hell and laughed our butts off! Occasionally dad would even take us kids on a short trip in the semi with him. This was soooooo cool!

As I got older, dad got out of trucking and into farming. He would then allow me to skip school and attend auctions with him on Fridays so we could buy cattle! Was I truly interested in cattle? Hell no but it got me out of school so who cared! Of course I always skipped on my own and faked my mom's signature on the excuses.I got called into the principals office once on a legitimate excuse that they thought was fake and they called my mom a liar! BAD IDEA!! This set my dad off to no end and he paid my principal a visit and rattled a few cages. needless to say they never questioned another excuse fake or real that I handed in for the rest of my school term.

After graduation I got pregnant and was too scared to tell my parents so I moved to another town and got a job. Thinking if I didn't go home to visit very often and wore baggy clothes they wouldn't know. Parents aren't stupid nor do they stop loving you because you do something stupid.They let me move back home and helped me get back on my feet. I had to pull my weight there was no free ride here. When my daughter was about 2 years old, my dad was supposed to be watching her while she was napping. He fell asleep himself and started snoring. My daughter woke up and started coming down the stairs but stopped about three stairs from the bottom and that's where we found her when we got back. She would move from there because as she said "Grandpa's making funny noises!" Even sleeping he was a good babysitter.

Over the years I have watched this man go through many life altering changes. They don't seem to break him, they make him stronger. At 80 he is still driving semi from Iowa to Wisconsin 2-3 times a week, he takes care of my mom who had a stroke 7 years ago, he maintains their home doing the laundry, cooking and cleaning and he makes the best pies you have ever tasted. And he still manages to call me at least 3 times a week just to check in and see what's up, or how the Packers are doing, or how school is going, or just to give me shit.

That's who this wonderful man I called dad is and why I love him. Happy Birthday Daddy

The Igloo Adventure

Once again it's time for Mamakat's writers workshop. I will attempt to do #1.

My head was pounding, my mouth felt like it was full of cotton and something or someone was poking me. I slowly opened one eye and saw an unfamiliar face looking back at me. This was the source of the poking. I quickly shut my eye again and pretended I was a sleep. Maybe, I thought to myself, if I feign sleep they'll go away and leave me alone. No such luck.

Face: Lady, wake up! You have to get out of my igloo and go home.

Me: (in my head) Igloo? Why would I be in an igloo? Aren't they normally in Alaska? I live in Wisconsin how would I get to Alaska? I just went to my neighbor Judy's party last night.

Face: Lady, I saw you open your eyes. I know you're awake. Talk to me.

Me: Who are you? How did I get here? Where am I? Better yet who am I? I don't remember anything from last night. As I talk I quickly check my pockets for a wallet but all I find is $4 and a rock in one pocket and a toothbrush in another. (Great, I can skip rocks on the lake, brush my teeth and buy a pound of whale blubber but I don't know who I am!!
Lot of good this does me.) Maybe I can use the $4 to pay this guy to find out who I am? No not enough money.

Face: My name is George and if you give me the $4 I'll help you find out who you are and help you get home.

Me: (Thinking to myself this guy is nuts but if he thinks he can do this for $4, I'm game) "OK George you have a deal" Here's the $4.

George: Your name is Karen, you live two houses over and you were at a party last night. The reason you have a rock in your pocket is Judy's son was going to throw it at his sister and you took it away from him so he couldn't hurt her. The toothbrush is your daughters, you went home to make sure she brushed her teeth before going to bed but you got interrupted before you had a chance to do this so you stuck it in your pocket and never took it out again. You had a little too much to drink at the party (this isn't a bad thing) and ended up in my yard sleeping in my son's igloo tent. I didn't have the heart to wake you and send you home last night so I just let you stay here.

Me: A little sheepishly: So I'm not in Alaska? (Slowly it all starts to come back to me. I remember drinking Purple Passions last night. They tasted like grape juice and went down so easy that I must have had a few too many, hence the hangover and memory loss.)

George: No, still in Wisconsin.

Me: Crawling out of the tent a little awkwardly I manage to finally stand up and look around. I now recognize the neighborhood and feel foolish. All I want to do is go home. Vowing never to drink another Purple Passion again as long as I live. I turn to Geroge and mutter a Thank you as I quikly dart across his yard to mine.