Birthday, Birthday

Today we celebrate two members of the family.

Born just two weeks ago: Wee Bird! She is our fourth grandchild and we just returned from a week of helping at their house. CoolGuy and I double-teamed the big sister and brother so Mom could rest up and recover. We're exhausted. There's a reason why young people have babies and toddlers. But we really enjoyed ourselves immensely. There's nothing like being grandma and grandpa. We were even able to spend an afternoon and evening with our son and his wife and our #1 grandson.

The other birthday is for a person born 87 years ago today, my father. I've blogged about him several times. He died far too young, 26 years ago, and it is interesting how his influence on our family remains so strong. I credit our mother for some of that, because she and he were a true team. They functioned as a unit and even after he left, things were done with the consideration of how "your dad would have wanted it." They were really equal partners.

Here's a story from his childhood, just for fun. Remember, he was orphaned by age eight and raised by relatives on a big farm. This is an excerpt from a memoir I wrote about all the stories of his life he told me over the years--most of the stories were told just once, in casual conversation, as we were working.

Another chore he had was snaking logs down off the hill in the winter. In the summer, they’d go cut the trees, and then when there was snow on the ground, they’d drag the logs out behind a horse. When Daddy was twelve, he said he’d spend every Saturday dragging logs off the mountain. He was so tired one night, and came in the house after dark. There was a huge party in the big house, (as there often was), and there was a very large lady blocking his way from getting through the doorway, so he could go upstairs to his room, where he fervently wanted to be—stretched out on the bed. He stepped this way and that, and she’d lean this way and that right along with him, in an unknowing little dance. He decided to speak up, and croaked out “Haw, Lady” instead of the “pardon me” he’d meant too. He’d spent too much time giving commands to horses that day, and was too tired to think straight.
Then there was the Jell-o story. He was working in the summer at the logging campsite, and had to cook dinner (which you eat in the middle of the day, of course). Anyway, he mixed up some Jell-o and, realizing that it wouldn’t serve as many people as he was feeding, he said he just added more water till it looked like enough for everyone. Well, of course, no one had Jell-o for dinner that day; punch maybe…

So, while you enjoy the waning of winter (notice how the daylight is lingering longer?) think of the newest person in my family with a smile at her cuteness, and have a little chuckle over the the childhood of the oldest member. My dad was a jokester and he'd be glad you're happy.