memorial bench
Dad's 81st Birthday
Dylan and I celebrated Dad's 81st birthday yesterday with a heavy heart still. We miss him every day, but enjoyed a beautiful 80 degree day with a nice picnic at the beach and stories and favorite memories. I told Dylan some of my favorite stories, like when I was rolled by a wave at age 11 and how much he laughed at the sight of me with sand from head to toe. Dad loved referring back to that one. We shared little idiosyncracies that we miss, like the way he'd say, "there she is!" every morning as I walked out of the bedroom. Or the way he looked over my shoulder as I read my email in his office. I don't think he was trying to read my email, but was just interested in something on the computer. Always drove me nuts, but I would love to have him do that now. Or the way he always messed with Dylan's block creations, changing it in subtle ways for Dylan to find later on. We miss breakfasts with him and the discussions that felt like they could last all morning. I miss his laughter. And I especially miss having his advice, like right now when I'm dealing with dry rot in my subfloor. Dylan asked me, if I could talk to him right now, what question would I ask. I couldn't think of any, but said, I wish I could tell him I love him and Goodbye. So we sat on the beach, thinking of him and enjoying the waves around us. Dylan was busy with a carving that perfectly sums up our day and our feelings. What he made is in the included photo. Happy birthday Dad! We will always miss you!
And a P.S. to his friends. I love the tributes! Please keep writing.
2 years
2 years. Its been 2 years already. Two years is a long time to go without talking to your Dad, who's been there all of your life. Its too long. I still miss him daily, but this anniversary is a bit easier to take than last year. I still hate flying out of Minnesota after a trip there and knowing I didn't see him. I especially miss him when I fly out over his house. It just doesn't make sense that I've been in Minnesota for a week and didn't see him. Or that he didn't pick me up from the airport. Every time I pass by the chairs on the upper level of the Sun Country terminal on the way to the parking lot, I think of him. We sat in those chairs, waiting for take off back to Seattle when I was nauseous from a flu virus and not sure I would make it on the plane. I also think of him when I get off the plane and he's not there just past security waiting for us. Its really hard to pass those spots and not see him. But, our lives move on in positive ways. I relate closely with those that have lost a loved one, espcially a parent. And I think about how I can use my good fortune to make the world a better place, as he tried to do. One way I've decided to do that this year (and it may become a regular thing) is to do what I call 30 days of kindness. In honor of my Dad, for the next 30 days I will complete some random act of kindness each day for some unsuspecting person. If you know my Dad, you know he liked to play practical jokes and laugh. This is a kind way of doing that. No laughter required, but it does leave a good feeling. Yesterday I bought a tea bag for someone at the deli so she wouldn't have to return to her desk to get her money. A simple act, but it meant something to her. What will it be today? Make someone smile? Let a haggard mom in front of me in line at the grocery store? Maybe I'll hand a blanket out to a homeless person on the street corner since the weather is so bad. The fun of it is, I don't know what I'll do, but I know it'll be fun and hopefully mean something to the person I'm targeting. Hopefully others can join me in this fun 'scavenger hunt' of kindness. And through kindness, we can honor a kind man who left us way too soon.
Dad's 80th Birthday
Today is my Dad's 80th birthday. I would like to have celebrated that with him, but it was not meant to be. Instead I cleared my calendar and spent the day on Lake Washington, paddling around Seward Park in his kayak. This was only the 3rd time I'd loaded the kayak by myself and 1st time this year, so I wasn't sure how it would go. I have a frozen shoulder now that makes it difficult to reach above my head. Its an injury I didn't have the last time I did this. I do have a fancy Hullivator lift-assist kayak rack though that makes the job much easier. Instead of lifting 60 pounds above my head, I'd only need to lift about 20. Still, with the bum shoulder, I figured there would be a chance I'd need to call for backup from the park.
I got to Seward Park in Seattle and got a primo parking space right by the beach. Score! I lowered the kayak and managed to carry it to the grass by myself with no issues. I dragged it across the grass and successfully staged it on the concrete step above the water. I thought about dragging it about 30 feet further to the sandy beach, but figured I could manage the step alright. I was wrong. After preparing to go (and looking pretty cool so far), I slid into the kayak and prepared to slide off the step into the water. But, the pitch was steeper than I expected and the sea kayak was longer than the whitewater boats that I was more used to. I soon found myself tilting dangerously to the left, fully clothed. I tried desperately to right myself, but knew it was impossible. I soon realized that I was going to be very wet and was well aware of a few park goers watching me. Splash! Fully submerged! I bounced up quickly, but was soaked head to toe. I could just hear my Dad laughing his deep laugh and retelling this story to his friends at Paul's house on Thanksgiving.
I dragged the half-full kayak to the beach that I should have used in the first place to assess the situation. I had no intention of giving up on my memorial adventure (and what an adventure it was turning out to be). As I hit the beach, I suddenly remembered the camera I had stuck in the pocket of my life jacket; the one with photos of Vietnam that I have not backed up yet. I yanked it out and shoved it in my dry bag; mostly dry. I think I managed to save it. Next up was the thought that I had no change of clothes and no towel. And it was 58 degrees. So, onward we go! I emptied the boat of water, sat back down and gracefully slid off the sand onto the lake, the way its supposed to be done.
The rest of the morning was uneventful and very peaceful as I paddled among the lily pads, pine trees and various water fowl. The biggest challenge was trying to dry off my glasses on wet clothes so I could actually see through them. I did the best I could and just waited for them to air dry. The animals and beauty of the area made me soon forget my discomfort. I heard one of the resident eagles high up in a tree, passed a turtle sunning himself on a log and enjoyed a heron standing in the water, hidden by tree branches. I had a visit by a mallard couple as they swam right up to me and swam along next to me for a bit. It was a very nice, quiet morning on the glassy water. But, after an hour of casual paddling, I was starting to get chilled, so headed back to the beach to disembark. I looked like a pro getting out and packing up the kayak, despite the dripping wet pants. I drove home with the heat on while sitting on a foam pad.
Once home, I struggled under tired muscles to get the kayak off the car. Unfortunately the Hullivator sits a bit too close to the side of my car and I managed to put some pretty good scratches in the front quarter panel with the sandy hull. Needless to say I was not happy since my car is only a year old and mostly scratch-free up til this point. But, realizing there was nothing I could do, I decided to look on the positive side. Each time I see that scratch now, I'll think of spending my Dad's 80th birthday kayaking in his kayak. And I'm sure someday I will laugh at my graceful entrance and driving home soaking wet. And hopefully, I will continue to hear my Dad's laugh while remembering this day.
Happy 80th Birthday Dad! I love you and miss you every day.
Sam's Last Canoe Trip
Sam was a friend, colleague at work (Electrical Engineer at Univac, Sperry, Unisys), and good neighbor. Sam lived two doors east of me here on Kyllo Lane in a house built, and lived in, by my wife’s parents.
Sam visited me at my home shortly before his passing. I invited him to go with me for a canoe ride on our lake (both our lots go down to Black Hawk Lake). We knew, of course, that Sam’s poor health would make it very difficult for him to climb back up the hill after the ride. However, I have a garden tractor which I use to ride up and down that hill, so the plan was for Sam to walk down and then he would ride the garden tractor back up after the canoe ride.
It was a beautiful warm and sunny day, and perfectly calm. We cruised the entire length of the lake (perhaps ½ mile each way) using my small battery-powered trolling motor. I’m not sure motors are allowed on Black Hawk Lake, but hey - absolutely no noise and no wake?. The wind was calm; the sun was warm; the environment was quiet; I turned the RPM way down and we just “took it all in”.
After the canoe outing Sam rode the garden tractor slowly back up the hill as I walked along side to guard against mishap.
I know Sam enjoyed the outing on our lake as did I. After the ride we sat out on my patio, enjoyed a soft drink, visited for about an hour and then Sam went home. That was the last time I saw Sam.
I’m sorry I didn’t take photos of Sam on our little outing on Black Hawk Lake. Several days after the canoe ride with Sam, I took another short canoe ride on the lake alone, in anticipation and in preparation for inviting Sam’s grandchildren (and others) to retrace Sam’s last canoe ride when they come for Sam’s memorial at his home on 10/26/2014. This time I brought along my camera and captured some of the lake views. The attached photo is a view of the lake, with the front seat of the canoe in the foreground. That’s where Sam sat. Now there is an empty jacket on that seat.
Sam was a good man. He will be missed.