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Pa

When my siblings and I were small, we’d beg my dad to do his tricks. They included:

~Running out into the yard, jumping into the air, and clicking his heels together.

~Kicking a ball high into the air.

~Smoking a pipe after dinner.

~Speaking German.

~Telling us wild stories of his childhood growing up in New Ulm, Minnesota.

~Setting off fireworks.

~Teaching us how to play poker.

I thought he knew everything. I still do. When a decision needs to be made, I value his advice.

I liked looking at pictures of him wearing cool black sunglasses, leaning on cars, trees, tables. He broke his leg while skateboarding when I was five-years-old. He taught me how to drive our 1967 Dodge pickup truck when I was thirteen-years-old. He taught me how to shoot a rifle.

When we went to Disneyland, his sole mission was to find Goofy and have his picture taken with him. He succeeded. I wish I had it today, because I would post it in honor of his birthday.

I hope it’s as happy as he’s made me.

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