July 10, 2011 Happy Birthday, Dad!

Today would have been my dad's 86th birthday! WOW. That is hard to believe. What's even harder to believe is that Dad's been dead for nearly 10 years.

I wanted to post a picture(s) today that would represent my dad. But what would I take a picture of? The courthouse? He was after all a lawyer, judge and legislator. A Kansas sunset? He would drive to the edge of Dodge sometimes and photograph the gorgeous western Kansas sunsets. My walking shoes? All his life, Dad walked everywhere he could. To work, to the courthouse, around the block during halftime of various ballgames. And he encouraged his kids to walk as well.

After giving it much thought, this is what I chose:

The NewtRat mug was a gift to Dad from Evelyn and Al Steimel, fellow Democrats in Dodge. There weren't too many Democrats around, so those who were publicly liberal stuck together. Dad loved that crazy mug. Just as much as he hated Newt Gingrich. If he knew Newt was trying to make a come back, it would kill him. (Pause for groans....)

Anyway, every single morning, Dad drank his coffee from the NewtRat mug. It had to be clean and sitting on the counter next to the coffee pot. No other mug would do. He had a zillion coffee cups, but he had only one favorite. Somehow, some way, I fell into the same habit. My coffee mug was one with president's photos on it. I have no idea where it came from but it became "my" mug. Dad and I could have lived with only 2 coffee mugs!

All his life, Dad was a creature of habit. He always walked to work and home. No matter where his office was or where he lived in relation to that office, he walked. I could wait for him at the corner and he'd arrive at the same time every evening. Saturday mornings were the same week after week: post office, office, coffee, errands. After he retired, Dad would take a drive at 10:00 a.m., on the same route. Every day. He'd do the same thing in the afternoon, although he had a different route. Every. Day.

I must confess that even now in the morning when I grab a coffee cup and it's one of these two, I consider my day off to a great start.

Tomatoes. Tomatoes make me think of my dad. He loved to be outside. He loved to garden. Dad had tomato plants every year. He'd try all different things to make them grow. Egg shells. Coffee grounds. Yelling. Full sun. Half sun. Quarter sun. He had the soil tested. He'd read articles about tomatoes and what plants would be best in southwest Kansas (and this was before the internet).

Towards the end of his life, he couldn't get to the plants to pick the tomatoes because he was a bit unsteady on his feet. But, by god, he had tomato plants! And he'd eat his crop of tomatoes at every meal.

If Dad had a choice, he'd be outside. Didn't matter if he was working in the yard or the garden, or sitting on the patio listening to the Royals, or turning a jump rope or shooting baskets. He was an outside kind of guy.

But, he was a voracious reader and very, very wise. My dad knew something about everything and a lot about many things. He forgot more about the law than I'll ever know.

I am who I am and what I am because of that man who had a favorite coffee mug and loved to grow tomatoes.

But he was so much more.

And he was my dad.