A stroll down that street known as Halloween Memory Lane

I had my folks over to celebrate Phil's birthday (Happy Birthday, Phil!), and because Halloween was nigh upon us, I asked what they did for the holiday when they were kids. My mom was vague. "Oh, you know," was pretty much all she said. But my dad told us they used to roam around the Orem bench, knocking over outhouses.

I was intrigued because knocking over outhouses seems like a mythic American activity, something Mark Twain created when he wrote about Huck and Tom. But apparently not. Also, I was a little surprised to learn that there were still outhouses to knock over in Orem in the 30's. Sometime between then and when I was born, people got busy and called the plumber, because I don't remember outhouses in Orem.

"Were you dressed up?" I asked.

The man looked at me like I was an idiot. "No. We just knocked over outhouses."

Meanwhile, I have a Halloween memory of my own in re to him. When we'd come home from trick-or-treating, he checked our bags to "make sure everything was okay." Then he'd steal all our Tootsie Rolls.

Feel free to post a few memories of your own. And have a spook-tacular day.

Here's one of those posts in which I really don't have anything to say

. . . but nonetheless I have something I want to share because it makes me smile.

My dad's birthday is next week, so he's on my mind. Geoff and I were talking about him last night, and both of us agreed you gotta love a guy who always calls cities by their nicknames. Philly. Vegas. L.A. Frisco. Cincy.

Dude is an honorary member of the Rat Pack, apparently.

A tiny story involving my father and gambling

The other morning on our walk, Kathy told me a story which triggered a childhood memory involving my dad and a pocketful of quarters.

On one of our many, many, many trips across the Nevada desert--we used to get our teeth fixed for free by a dentist practicing in the Bay area who played football with my dad in college--we stopped at a coffee shop/casino somewhere in Winnemucca. For whatever reasons, my mom stayed in the car while my brother and I followed our dad inside who handed us a bunch of quarters and told us to hit the slots for a few minutes while he picked up some lunch for the family.

That's how things were if you were a kid in the mid-sixties. You didn't wear seat belts, and you played the slots even though you were only nine and your brother was only seven. DUDE! EXCELLENT TIMES! And also LUCK BE A LADY!

Anyway. It didn't take long for one of the Casino Suits to buttonhole my dad (in my mind's eye I can see him standing there with a bag of sandwiches in his hand and a look of profound surprise on his face) to tell him he'd better get those damn kids out of the casino. Which he did. Pronto.

Oh, there are no words to express how much I love my dad and all the happy memories for which he is responsible.

A dad memory

As Ken and I walked the dogs this morning, we started talking about fathers--specifically the role they play in daughters' lives. And I asked him if I'd ever told him The Sex Talk Story. Much to our mutual surprise, he said no. I had not.

Anyhoo! This is how it all went down. I was maybe fourteen or so, sitting in the family room when my dad showed up and said, "I've got something to tell you." I was all yeah? What is it? Let's get this over with so I can keep doing a whole lot of nothing. So he said, "Guys will give love to get sex. Girls will give sex to get love. I'm here to tell you you don't have to give sex. Okay?" Then he left abruptly and I went EW! DON'T EVER SAY THE WORD SEX IN FRONT OF ME AGAIN!

In retrospect I realize how difficult it was for my dad to share that bit with me. In retrospect I also realize he did it because he wanted me to feel like I didn't have to put out just so some male WOULD love me. I already had a father who did. A good one.

Happy 80th birthday

That's right. My dad's turning 80 tomorrow, so my mom is having us down for a fam party tonight. She wanted us each to write something, so I'm using my blog to get it done. It'll be long. Feel free to skip.


EIGHTY THINGS TO LOVE ABOUT DAD ON HIS 80TH BIRTHDAY

I love the way he . . .

1. loves my mom
2. laughs at my jokes
3. enjoys music of all kinds
4. opens single-wrap cheese slices with his Swiss army knife
5. steals mints from the Cinegrill
6. crinkles up his entire face and shakes with silent laughter when something strikes him as funny
7. talks to the poodle, Jacque
8. used to wave good-bye to the Norwegian Elkhound, Thorina
9. likes to shop for clothes for himself
10. likes to shop for clothes for others
11. takes my boys golfing
12. does his own ironing
13. makes oatmeal and Eggos for the grandkids at the beach
14. wears groovy sunglasses
15. treats us to lunch at Joe Vere’s
16. puts on a fishing hat and reads for hours at the beach
17. listens when you have a problem and just want to talk
18. knows how to pick out the ripest plums
19. gets a kick out of “O Brother Where Art Thou” no matter how many times he sees it
20. grows flowers like daylilies, asters, impatiens, primroses and rose roses
21. landscapes with “rock”
22. makes his in-laws feel like family
23. used to take my grandpa and buy him a Wendy burger before football games on Saturday
24. calls a mean Bingo game
25. texts me when I’m taking a ride in a hot air balloon
26. drops little letters of encouragement to the people he loves
27. puts salt on apples
28. refuses to take himself too seriously
29. refuses to take other people too seriously
30. sees the humor in a headline like “Emotions Run High at the LaVerkin Liquor Hearing”
31. takes care of old friends like Devan

I love that he taught me how to . . .

32. swim
33. turn a cartwheel
34. throw a softball so I could get the Presidential Fitness Award in the sixth grade
35. swing a golf club
36. put someone in a Half Nelson
37. plant shrubs
38. enjoy good Mexican food
39. enjoy good sourdough bread
40. treat people with respect no matter their background
41. have a confrontation without turning it mean and ugly
42. start a fire with newspaper and lighter fluid
43. play “Nickels Up” (Grandma helped!)
44. say hello in Japanese

I am grateful when I was a kid that he . . .

45. provided me with opportunities to travel, especially to London when I was in college
46. made me feel smart
47. wasn’t harsh where religion was concerned
48. welcomed my friends into our home
49. took us (sometimes) to Sizzler on Sunday
50. worked on graduate degrees, thus teaching us the importance of formal education and the value of life-long learning
51. stopped me from saying something hurtful to a boy I was dating
52. took us to San Francisco once a year to get our teeth fixed

I still like it when he tells stories about . . .

53. army days
54. other coaches
55. players
56. my mother
57. Uncle Wayne and Uncle Lewis
58. peddling fruit
59. Doc Dewey’s car
60. initiations for Sigma Nu

Words I would use to describe my dad

61. loyal
62. witty
63. kind
64. wise
65. stoic
66. steady
67. silly

I think of my dad whenever I hear

68. “Abide with Me”
69. “O My Father”
70. “O Holy Night”
71. “The Lonely Bull”
72. “Amazing Grace”
73. Willie Nelson
74. C.C.R.
75. the Beaver Fight Song
76. bagpipes
77. a quarterback shouting an audible

I won’t forget . . .

78. how he used to visit me in the hospital on his lunch hour
79. how he and my mom brought soup to Becky’s house the day she died
80. how he manages to always make me feel like the most important person in the room

Happy birthday, Dad. Couldn’t love you more.

Big Piney

I'm off to Wyoming for a few days with my mom (aka the Rodeo Queen) to visit our relation Ava. Ava is ninety. She still can do the splits and she loves a quick trip to Wendover when the weather and the Lord permits.

Meanwhile, my column in the d-news today is about going up in a hot air balloon but I didn't mention the best part, which is that when I was dangling 11,000 feet above the ground, I got a text from my dad. My dad! Texting!