Thanks Dad

Thanks Dad

I would tell him to write them down.
Please, write them down.
“You better write them down”, I’d pester, “because you know how I forget.”
He’d laugh and say ok, one day he will write them alllll down for me.
Then we would get busy with life and his stories would remain in his head not on a paper.

& then he’d tell me another
& I’d say ‘Dang ! These are great ! Pleaseeeeeee write them down because you know how I forget !’
Laugh, laugh, laugh.
Ok ok ok ….

Until finally, I told this father of mine that I want no other anything.
No birthday present.
No Christmas present.
No whatever.
From now until eternity, I want only one thing.
One. Thing.
PLEASE write those stories down because he knows how I  forget.

Best day ever was the day he handed me that yellow legal pad.
On it, in his wonderful handwriting, are his stories.
I call them his Nine Lives.
Times when he probably could have, should have left this life but survived to tell the tale.

Like the time he was 8 years old and had strep throat
& his mama came thisclose to calling the priest.
Or the time the brakes went out on a car he was driving in Chicago.
Or those two and a half typhoons.
Or when he almost fell into a fiery mold at the steel mill.
The man has many
& in between his adventures he married an awesome woman.
Together they raised a family of six.
How he lived in a house of four daughters, two sons, one bathroom is the biggest survival of all.

My next quest for the person I call Dad is to write their story.
Jack and Lorraine.
How they met, how they fell in love, got married …
You know, all that good stuff.
Dad knows I have heard this one many times before.
He also knows how good I am at hounding.
Please write it down.
Please !!

Hey Dad ?
Thank You.
For your stories, for your love, for everything.
I promise, I will never, ever forget.


I Am My Feelings