Happy Birthday Daddy!

Today is my daddy’s birthday. He is 9 going on well let’s just say more than 9. You can already tell I love my daddy very much. He has this warped sense of humor and a totally different way of looking at things. He was always larger than life to me and you know I guess he still is.

When I was little and he was a trooper I used to see him in his uniform and just swell with pride. That was back in the days when law enforcement officers weren’t paid very much at all not that things have changed much. We didn’t have a lot of extra money and my daddy wanted a pick up truck. He found an old dodge pick-up that wasn’t in the best of shape but it was the right price. He traded and finagled and finally come up with a way to purchase the old Dodge. He brought it home and the restoration began. I was thrilled because I saw rides in the back of the truck with my hair blowing. I also reasoned in my 6 year old mind that since we now had a pick-up there was nothing to stop my parents from buying me a pony.

Daddy spent hours, days, and weeks under the hood of the pick-up. I learned at an early age that in order to fix something you had to cuss at it. Every hour that my daddy was under the hood of that truck I was right there beside him. I would sit on the ground next to his tool box and he would say “Bebe, hand me that 7/8 wranch. No the 7/8 wranch. No that’s not a wranch that’s a ratchet. Now hand me that left handed screw driver.” I would paw through the tool box looking for a left handed screw driver; I would eventually give up and say “Daddy, I can’t find a left handed screw driver will this red one work?” He would chuckle and put his hand out and go right on working. Then one day he got in the cab of the truck and turned the key. The old truck sputtered and bucked then farted a big plumb of blue smoke then started purring. I ran around the other side of the truck, jumped up on the running board and climbed in the passenger seat. Daddy and I went for a test drive. I was the happiest little girl on the block sitting in that mangy old Dodge truck with my daddy.

I have millions of memories of my daddy like this. I have memories of him reading the encyclopedia to us trying to give us some little known facts knowledge. I think it’s because of him that I grew up to be a virtual vault of useless knowledge, but I do pretty well at Trivial Pursuit. I have memories of daddy taking us fishing and spending all of his time helping us with our lines and poles and getting very little fishing in himself. I have memories of my daddy trying to teach us how to drive without screaming or jumping out of the moving vehicle. I remember going bird hunting with him and him teaching us how to use a gun and how to respect it. I have not so fond memories of his Frito-pie but that’s a story for another time.

I grew older but my admiration and my pride in my daddy never waivered. I was never ashamed or embarrassed by my daddy. He has always been one of my biggest heroes. He is my mentor and my muse. I still love to crawl up in the cab of his pick-up truck and take a ride with him. I love his stories and his sense of humor.

Happy Birthday Daddy. I love you!

So does Miss Priss!