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Sunday, November 1, 2009

Wish he'd been my dad....

A friend growing up had the dad I always wanted. He was big, funny, and always had a project going. He was also crippled by polio and except for his obvious limp, you'd have never known. He did stuff other dad's would never do. He sang at the Bluebird's Father-Daughter banquet and wasn't embarrassed. My dad looked like he was going to throw up. He wore shorts with his withered leg in full view and didn't care.

My friend's dad would take us fishing at Little Sandy, and laugh when I kept casting up into the weeds. He couldn't fish for getting my line untangled. When I finally did catch a fish, he made it tinkle on my leg. He knew right where to squeeze and, presto--fish pee. Well, I hope it was pee anyway. He bought a player piano out of the classifieds--and kept it in his garage. Along with the turtle eggs he saved on his way back from a Rockport fishing expedition and buried in sand to try and hatch. I can't tell you the hours his daughter and I wiled away playing songs on that player piano in the garage, waiting for those turtles to hatch. And then there was his Vespa. Another classified ad purchase. Sometimes if I was going over to their house, my friend would get her dad to pick me up on his Vespa. He was a huge bear of a man and looked just like the bears in the Circus, riding a scooter. I would always crack up laughing as he rounded our block, buzzing his horn. There was no safer more fun place in the world than climbing on the back of that scooter, wrapping your little kid arms around him, and taking off. He was so big you could only see side to side, but who cared?? You were with him and it was a blast.

Then there was the Fiat he bought that looked just like a cartoon car. No doors, a fringe on top, and the lights on the front looked just like two bug eyes, on a face. I doubt it was even street legal but we drove it everywhere anyway. We even drove it on the golf cart path at the Dallas Country Club until we finally got caught. Her dad didn't get mad--he just laughed.

He was also a great cook. No matter what he was making, every recipe started off with a tablespoon of chili powder. He was also known for his pranks. When the squirrels kept invading his bird feeder, he covered the pole in Tabasco. Then he put the bird feeder pole on a spring so when the squirrels jumped on it, it threw them off. Then there were the duck decoys he loved to float on their pool. They looked just like the real thing and cracked up kids and adults alike.
As much as he hated the raccoons that lived in their alley, he sure loved to frustrate them. He would put out a bowl of water and a bunch of saltines for them. Then he'd sit back and watch them wash those crackers until they dissolved into mush--completely inedible. We'd hear him laughing his hyena laugh, and run to see what he was up to. When you heard that laugh, you knew something fun was going on.

NOBODY was as much fun as he was and his impact on my life was HUGE. He's been dead for over ten years but I still miss him. He taught me to sail, to cook, to have fun, and that even though you had a withered leg from polio, you could do anything.

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