Thursday, March 10, 2011

Daddy Dearest Love of My Life

Here is what I grew up saying, "Daddy Dearest, love of my life, etc, etc, a'hun'red n'finity kisses." Whenever my sister and I wanted something. Want dinner? Say it. Want a ride? Repeat. Want money? I can't hear you.

No, really though, we didn't mind and we do love our father the mostest.

Unless he makes us pick up rocks.

You know, picking up rocks is something I will always remember from my childhood. Father Michael Francis bought a piece of property next to our house when I was young that was full of dirt and broom scotch (it is really scotch broom, I know, but I wrote that first thinking it was correct so it stays). After clearing the land, my sister and I were forced to pick up rocks in order to plant grass. We picked rocks 24-7 like the roman slaves built pyramids or whatevs, or at least that is how I remember it. That summer my dad went to K-Mart for front shield windwipers or something of that nature and I saw a pink flashlight I really wanted. Instead of purchasing his sweet daughter that light, he made me pick rocks for it. Something like 50 buckets worth. Daddy Dearest didn't win him over when there was hard labor to be done.

But ya know, that manual labor really did train me for being a strong lady. Not many girls can say they chopped wood, picked rocks, fed ducks, changed oil, shot bows and guns, lived in a tee-pee, and drove a bulldozer all while living in suburbia. If I didn't know how to get dirty I wouldn't be as good at my job or know how to weed correctly in my garden. And, I know that is what Pa was going for. Strong girls. Hell, I probably did 1,436 real push-ups and 469 clapping push-ups as punishment when I was young.

Yep, ducks
Father Michael Francis taught me all about sports too. (wow, I really wouldn't have been as good at my job if my dad didn't force me to do things I didn't always want to do.) Dad coached basketball and fastpitch when I was younger. He was a good coach. I think. I don't really remember actually. But, I am sure he was because I remember liking sports but I don't remember if we won or lost. I mostly remember playing the clarinet during half time while my sister rode her unicycle or jumproped to our 6th grade version of "On Wisconsin". On the clarinet and flute. That is 100% true.

My loving Father would do anything for his sweet daughters and I am glad I have the Pa I have.
Yes, that non-cabbage patch is my sister
More things I like about my Father include:
8) Father Dear gave me the knowledge and desire to predict weather. I used to just ask Pa what the weather would look like but since I don't have him at my disposal all the time anymore, I had to learn to fend for myself.

7) Dad is consistent. He forced me to run in Pt Defiance Park with him on weekends. It probably only happened like 4 times but it felt like pure torture. Although, I did get egg mcmuffins afterward.

6) Dad taught me the importance of "a deal". I ate 99¢ Whoopers all.the.time. 39¢ Mickey D Hamburger Sundays? Oh baby, yes! But I couldn't have cheese on it because that cost 15¢ more. I became a pro-grocery shopper by holding all the coupons and telling Father when I saw that super-deal cake mix. I wasn't to worry if we already have 5 at home either. A deal is a deal!

5) He always has chips stashed away. (see number 6) But, he won't let you open them unless you ask. Plus, you have to make sure it is the next in line with the expiration dates.

4) Pa likes old country music and likes to sing. "The Happy Wanderer" is a family song.
God I love this picture. Such happy wanders consulting a compass
3) Father let us get cable in 1999. That day was when the whole world opened up to me.

2) He likes to torture his children sometimes just to make sure they are on their toes and ready to try new things. Like the museum. The exhibits could be 17 years old but you are forced to go every year and see the same ole shit about the pioneers, natives, and trains.
This is mostly just to show Sis she wore that hat in public
1) He doesn't like to talk on the phone. I hate the phone so I don't have to feel bad when I don't call Father regularly. He knows I love him and I know the same. If there is something important, I call. If there isn't, I don't. Same as he. Except that he always wants me to call "when I get home". But, it doesn't matter anyway because I call and he is always in bed asleep. Real worried, real worried.

So Father Michael Francis has some quirks and is a bit of a goofball but if he wasn't that way, I wouldn't be the same person I am today. People seem to like me so I am thankful for everything Pa has showed me/given to me throughout my life. I love him lotsa much.

Next Family Member: Mrs. Pedemonte
Previous Family Member: Mr Pepperworth


The Momma said...

Yeess! Pa takes the fall for all the rock picking. Score one for Ma.
I hope everyone marvels at the lush grass with the fine garden in the background in the duck picture since that is the rock and broom scotch free zone after forced child labor.
I'm a little nervous about your next family issue.

TheAnut said...

Mrs. PW, that's a very nice retrospective of your Pa. I think you also benefit from his curiosity about just about everything ... which had (and has)you exploring/reading/trying out/forced marching/cooking experimentally, etc. etc.

I hope your dad-ski checks in on your blog, 'cause "Hark, a Herold-Marrs Angel" is singing his praises ... and I don't think it's in expectation of getting something in return!

Looking forward to your next post. Will the upcoming pictures reveal that subject's parade of shoes over the years? It shouldn't go unnoticed that Mr. Pedemonte was in the shoe trade.

Sierra said...

These family posts are great! I love seeing all your photos.