A Birthday of Sorts
Wednesday, January 3rd, 2007Today (January 3) would have been my Daddio’s 74th birthday if I figure it right. Daddy taught me to sing harmony. He showed me the stars in the sky (I remember putting a blanket on the grass on the little slope some nights and flopping down on our backs, looking at stars.) The only constellations I can recognize these days are the big dipper and Orion, but I still think of my Dad when I identify these.
Daddy played trumpet (actually, a longhorn cornet, something between a trumpet and a cornet). He loved New Orleans Jazz. Today in the computer lab I was playing a Louis Armstrong CD and it played a tune my father would sometimes play. It was perfect timing and I enjoyed it very much.
It was a great day to remember Dad, beautiful in every way… warm for winter, sunny, social in all the right ways. Dad would have been tempted to find a golf course if possible… that was what he did, even in light snow, on sunny days.
Daddy died when I was 14. I take after his very-social personality, he loved to be “on stage.” We both take after his mother, Gramma Ruthie.
For years I tried to be sweet and quiet and petite and demure. I’m petite, that’s how I’m built, but the rest of me is big and bold (and loud) even when I’d rather not be. Actually, I’m a little less loud than I once was but that is only obvious to those who were in my life 20 years ago.
There are worse problems than “taking after” strong folks. Both Ruthie and Daddio were strong and passionate people. I’m honored to carry on their kind of spirit in this world.
Photos are dad’s high school photo and me in 4th grade. Check out the same ears, same perfect eyebrows, same creases from nose to lip when we smile.