Wife Like Me

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Today is my dad's 54th birthday.  Dad is one of those people who never looks much older.  When he was in his 30s, people still thought he was a teenager sometimes.  He taught at a university and sometimes his "kids" looked a lot older than he was.  Now that he has some gray in his hair he looks a little older, and the reading glasses help the look, too, but he could still probably pass for being in his 30s. 

Speaking of looks, my dad is a pretty snazzy dresser.  He used to own a men's clothing store in Arizona, and as long as I've known him he's liked to wear a tie to work if he can't get away with a suit and he regularly shines his shoes and he uses a shoe horn to put them on.  That is, unless he's doing archeology, and then I remember him digging in jeans, a polo shirt, a baseball hat with a bright bandanna tucked underneath hanging down to protect his neck from sunburn.  I've seen his wedding pictures from 1980–he wore a purple ruffled shirt with his tuxedo to his reception.  I've seen pictures from high school where he wore blue and white plaid bell-bottom pants.  The other people in the pictures seemed to think he looked cool.  My sister Abby found those plaid pants when we were in high school and wore them for years.  Dad's always looked really good in public, but when he's home working on stuff his sense of style suddenly breaks down and he has the funniest sense of what to wear to do home improvement.  Like khaki shorts that are too big but belted to fit and a green polo shirt and white socks and black tennis shoes.  I like the contrast.

Dad is a really friendly guy.  People at church used to ask us kids if he ever got grumpy, and I've shocked several people when I've told them that he occasionally even yells.  It's shocking because Dad is really a pretty calm, patient, happy person, but my siblings and I have diligently applied ourselves to the task of pushing his buttons from time to time. 

For a long time (until my brother came along) it was just dad and the girls, and you wouldn't believe how patient and wise my dad has been about dealing with his daughters.  I remember several times when I talked back to him or disobeyed or something and he sent me to my room.  I'm sure that's not unusual, but what is impressive is that he would give me a few minutes to cool off, stop whatever he was doing, then come to my room and sit at the foot of my bed and listen for hours to my crying and long explanations of what I thought was really wrong until I felt better and our relationship was improved.  He didn't give me advice until I was ready for it, he didn't tell me to get over it and shape up, he just let me talk it through.  Now that I'm older, I understand how much those talks made a difference to me and shaped my opinion of myself and how much time and effort he invested in me. 

Dad is pretty formal a lot of the time, especially with strangers or with work or church stuff.  He takes his responsibilities very seriously.  But when you get him in the right mood or with the right people, he gets crazy and dramatic.  When he would pick me up from school there were times that he shocked the other kids with his spontaneous operatic singing (Dad's a singer and a violinist, too).  I was totally embarrassed at the time, but I thought it was about as cool and funny as the other kids did anyway.  When you get Dad and my Aunt Becky together they laugh the whole time, sometimes until they can hardly breathe.  Dad starts telling silly jokes and breaking your expectations and you can't help but giggle along with his contagious laughter.  I remember one time when we had a family reunion Dad did a skit where he dressed up in a toga (bed sheet) and peeled grapes and threatened to stick them up his nose.  That's the kind of funny, crazy drama I'm talking about.  We still giggle over that performance with my cousins.

Dad told me once that one of the first things that attracted him to my mom was that she was interested in grammar.  That may sound odd, but language is important to my parents.  They both speak more than one language, and they both are careful about the words they chose to speak.  Dad always had a dictionary (or several) close by so that if any of us had a disagreement about etymology or grammar we could look it up.  It was totally normal to have a discussion around the dinner table about whether we should say "lay" or "lie" in a particular case.  Of course, the debate goes on about whether you should pass dishes to the left or right (we pass to the right) and whether asparagus is really a finger-food.  Dad is really into etiquette, too, and kept Emily Post and other manners books nearby.   

Dad is famous in our family for his gifts.  Valentine's Day was always a happy day for me (even when I was single) because Dad always got us each a carnation and told us he loved us.  He has a knack for presentation, and often the value of the gift is in the presentation.  My first Christmas away from home Dad mailed me a package full of dollar store and handcrafted materials in a box with step-by-step assembly instructions, including a pappier mache topographical map of Israel with Christmas-related cities labeled, and cotton balls out of which I was to create a herd of sheep to place near Bethlehem.  I think the most memorable gift I ever saw him give was a half-used bottle of ice drops (breath mint drops)suspended inside a large, marker-decorated tepee on a foil-covered cookie sheet.  The gift was labeled to identify the various features of his wrapping job and the uses of the gift inside.  He spent over an hour locked up mysteriously in his bedroom working on the project and then waited until all the other gifts were opened before he brought the tepee out with great fanfare.  I don't even remember who he gave the present to, but it was hilarious and I still smile when I think of it.

My dad works hard to improve himself and our family all the time.  He's already great at the basics.  He called us to family scripture study and family prayer nearly every morning I can remember for my whole life.  There was no question about whether we would be going to church on a given Sunday unless we were sick.  There were many, many nights when I would go to say goodnight to my parents and catch Dad on his knees saying his prayers (sometimes he was asleep, but I knew he said them before he got in bed).  My parents always paid their tithing, even though we didn't have much money.  Dad accepted callings at church and did everything he could to do them well.  He's a great Home Teacher.  He was always worthy and ready to give us blessings.  He made sure we had Family Home Evening every week, and on top of that we had Family Council and Family Outings almost every week. 

Vacations with Dad were always packed with plans.  Our extended family always jokes about how Dad makes an agenda for every family reunion or meeting, and that he does such a thorough job that we actually follow it.  Every road trip he has ten ideas of what to do next, and he always wanted to stop and see the educational sites (historical landmarks, points of genealogical importance, etc.), and even though I often thought it was totally boring at the time, I crave the order of those vacations now. 

Dad is still very involved in my life.  I talk to him on the phone, and when I'm talking to my mom or siblings he always wants them to put me on speaker phone so he can hear me.  I know he prays for me and my little family.  After Degen was born, he made a s
pecial trip up to see me and the baby because he couldn't come when Mom did.  Whenever I get to see him he's just as awesome as ever and I know he loves me and that I can count on him as much as I could when I was little. 

Now, don't you think I have the best Dad ever?  Don't you wish you had a dad like mine?  If I were you, I would, because he is the best.  I could continue going on and on about how awesome he his, but I think you get the idea.  I love you, Dad!  Happy birthday!!!!!

Tags: Family