As everyone knows, my father played in many bands over the years. The bands did, usually, get paid for the gigs but they certainly weren't getting rich. And some gigs they played for free. I remember one particular gig he went to was quite a distance away and was only going to pay $50.00. He was the one who owned the sound system so he had to pack (squish) that huge thing with the ginormous speakers into his little vehicle and schlep it to the venue. Well, he loaded up and headed out and was running a bit behind so he was driving faster than he should have. He made it about half way there (to his $50.00 gig) got stopped for speeding, and got slapped with a $100.00 speeding ticket. When he got home he said, "Well, so much for a paying gig." Thank God he had a great sense of humor. 

This memory popped into my head the other day....When we were kids we always had so much fun in the snow...It seemed like every winter we got a ton of snow. We made snow forts, snowmen, and I once made a snow horse. Anyway, one time after a snowstorm we went out to play in the backyard (because that's what kids did in those days.) When we got out there we saw HUGE human-like footprints in the snow at least 20 inches long, I'd say. We were all amazed and so excited thinking that bigfoot had walked through our backyard. When we went inside all yammering at once to tell our parents, our father had a big grin on his face. He, proceeded to show us the giant wooden feet cut outs he had made. I still don't know how he made them look so convincing without his own footprints showing up as well!

This came up in my Facebook memories this morning so I decided to post it on here. It’s a story dad told back at a family cookout at Melinda’s house On 5th of July back in 2015. 

One time the band was playing at a nursing home an old man asked if they took requests and they liked to do that if they could so he asked for some Frank Sinatra song. They didn't have the music to it but they thought they could do it so they fudged around a bit and found a key/range that was comfotable for him to sing in and they started playing. My dad said the little guy belted that song to the rooftop. He knew every word and every note. He knocked their socks off.

I guess I'm thinking a lot about my father today as it has been one month since his passing. Still doesn't seem real. Anyway, this story keeps popping into my head so I thought I'd share. When we were young (I'd say I was around 5 years old?) my parents thought it would be a good idea on a nice spring day to take us out for walk on a woods' trail. I don't remember exactly where the trail was but I know it was someplace in Newton NH. My father seemed pretty confident that he knew where he was leading us...at least for a while. We continued for what, now seems like hours, my father having to carry me for part of the walk, off and on. The trail continued deeper and deeper into the woods and gradually became muddier and muddier. I remember my mother beginning to get crabby and snappy with my father insisting that he had taken a wrong turn someplace. For a while he insisted that he hadn't but when the trail just seemed to keep going on and on he conceded that he must have missed a turn back a ways. As the tension grew the trail became even muckier. I was trying my best to walk along so as not to be a baby and have to be picked up. We all grew very quiet, my mother seemed to be seething at my father. No one dared to say anything as we slopped through the mud with my father determined to get us pointed in the right direction. Suddenly my right shoe got sucked off into the deep mud and I started crying. I think my parents thought I was just crying b/c I couldn't take it anymore. Either I didn't dare say anything about the shoe or maybe I was crying too hard to get the words out, but we continued to trudge along with my father carrying me. It wasn't until we had, miraculously, found our way out of the woods that my shoe-less right foot was discovered. It was decided that we had spent enough time in the woods for one day and that the shoe WOULD NOT be retrieved! 

When we were very young bed time was so much fun in our house. I have vivid, happy memories of my father having us kids sit with him on the couch and he would read stories from the big Uncle Wiggly book. He may have read other stories too but those are the stories I loved so much that they stuck in my mind. After story time my father would say, "Stick out your arms." and he would fly us like airplanes up to our beds making "brrr, brrr, brrr" noises the whole time until he safely landed us into our beds. :-)

Dad loved pepper. He always seasoned his food with it before taking the first bite. One evening mom and dad were out to dinner some place and they had ordered their meals, to begin with salads. The restaurant was extremely busy that night. After some time passed their waitress came back and quickly placed the salads in front of them and walked away. Dad promptly picked up the pepper shaker and began briskly shaking it, loading his salad up with pepper. A minute later the waitress returned to the table and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry these salads belong to this other table.,” as she whisked the two salads away giving them to another couple sitting at a table diagonally across from mom and dad. Dad had a look of horror on his face then he quietly said to mom, “I hope that guy likes pepper!”

When we were young (and, as a matter fact, when we were not so young anymore) we would be eating breakfast together and my father would be munching on toast....Suddenly he would hold his piece of toast out in front of him and it would be a perfectly shaped critter of some sort, like a bear, dog, cat, etc...that he had nibble out of his piece of toast. He was so proud of his toast animals...It never got old. He always knew how to make us laugh.

Dad told me this story once a few years ago and I laughed so hard. Still laughing today when I think about it. I have to share it. In his younger years my dad was an avid runner. Us kids used to run with him when we were growing up. As he got older he slowed down a bit and stopped the running but continued to go out walking just about every day. He mapped out routes on his computer for mileage here in NH in the Derry area (for the summer months) and he also walked their park in Florida several times a day throughout the winter months too. When he’d go out walking mom usually would know what route he was going and about how long he’d be gone and she would start to get concerned if he wasn’t back home at a certain time. Here's the story he told me:

Dad: "Hey Lori, I pulled one over on your mother the other day." 

Me: "Why? What did you do to her dad?"

Dad: "While I was out walking the other morning I found a dinner fork in the road so I picked it up. So when I got back home she asked me, 'How was your walk?' and I told her it was ok, but you know that fork in the road over there by Johnny's house? and she looked at me real confused and thought for a second then snapped back at me saying, 'What are you talking about? There's no fork in the road by Johnny's house!!!' So I said to her, “Well I knew you wouldn't believe me so picked it up and I brought it home." 

I just thought that was so funny. I laughed so hard when he told me. I could tell that mom even thought he was cute when he was telling me the story. I could just picture him walking home with that fork knowing that he was going to tell her that story and she was going to yell at him. He knew she would yell at him, yet he set her right up anyway.

When I was a kid my father had a 2 seater Cushman Scooter similar to the one in the photo on the photos page. He used to give us rides around the yard and in the woods. It was so bouncy and fun with those big-ass springs under the seats and the balloon tires. He told me a story just last year about how when he first got that scooter he was showing off and rode over to a friend's house on it. I think he was in his twenties at the time. In the friend's front yard there was a huge, tall mound of gravel. He said that the clutch or the throttle(not sure which) on the scooter was always touchy. He hung out there talking to his buddy for a while, feeling like Mr. Cool-Guy with his new wheels. When he got ready to leave he revved up the engine for a last bit of bravado and when he began to pull out the scooter shot forward with lightning speed and went right up on top of the high mound of gravel with him barely hanging on. He said his buddy nearly wet his pants, rolling on the ground laughing hysterically.