Friday, December 19, 2014

"Boy, you don't know cold..."

70 years ago today, my Dad turned 27.

I don't think there was any celebration or official observance.

Perhaps his Mom and Dad had a little party of some sort.

Maybe baked him a cake and sang him "Happy Birthday".

He was absent from any festivities at home.

I'm not even sure that he realized it was his own birthday.

He was busy in Europe, trying to not freeze to death

or get shot or blown up.

The Battle Of The Bulge had begun three days prior,

and within a few more days, his unit would be ordered

to turn north and drive towards the little town of

Bastogne, Belgium.

That battle would last well into January, coupled with

the most bitter weather Europe had endured in 50 years.

When I was a kid, I complained about being cold.

"Boy, you don't know cold.", he said.

Five words formed a lifelong lesson.

Happy Birthday, Pop.

I love you.

Monday, December 8, 2014

Daddy/Daughter Time........

32 years ago this morning I was on the air at K92-FM/Roanoke.

Marianne called the hotline at around 8:20am.

"What's goin' on?", I asked cleverly.

"My parents sold their house.", she replied matter of factly.

"Anything else?"

"Oh yeah. My water broke!"

And I was off....

Our daughter Jessica was born at 4:43pm.

When we left the hospital with her the world

looked different.  Because it was.

One new life that would depend on us.

I remember the feeling that I just couldn't wait to hear her

laugh for the very first time.

And there have been many laughs since.

"Do the funny thing at the door!!!", she would squeal at bedtime.

And I would oblige by pretending to hit my head on the wall

or some such nonsensical act.

Teaching her to fish and shoot.

Participating in the Y Princess Program together.

She was "Little Eagle" and I, of course, was "Bald Eagle".

Earning our deputy black belts in Taekwondo together.

Good stuff, those Daddy/Daughter times....

Don't blink.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

A Merry Meltdown......

At present, you can't walk in our home. Anywhere.

Because there's Christmas stuff.  Everywhere.

Lights. Ornaments. And every St. Nicknack that we

could unpack.

Sort of a "Christmas Chernobyl".

I do most of the heavy lifting. Carrying the tree inside.

Trying to be gentle as I navigate the attic pulldown steps

with the 57 pound Rubbermaid container full of oh so fragile

somethings Christmasy.

I practice my Yuletide Yoga as I try to twist and turn myself

into position so as to be able to plug in the window candles.

All of the outlets for them reside behind heavy furniture.

But as crazy as things are now, I know that in a few days,

my bride will have everything decorated perfectly.

She has the spirit.

She has the eye.

She has the patience.

Our home will look like something out of "Southern Living"


Well, our downstairs will.