My Dad

My Dad…

The head of the household (although my mom might debate that). A military man, he believed and exemplified discipline and respect. As a child, I remembered the AWE of him…an officer…in charge…dressed to the nines. The blues, the buttons, the pins…the prestige!

My memories as a child whose love language is physical touch, focused mainly on his “plump” belly – a great snuggling attribute! It was like this little pillow that you could sink your head into and feel “at home” and “comfortable” and “loved.” At one time, he got into playing racquetball and got very fit, and lost that belly. We all knew it was in the best interests of his health, but I still couldn’t help but miss that snuggle factor!

Dad was always an adventurer…let’s go camping! And we did! Some of my greatest memories involved driving in the station wagon to destinations most people only dream of visiting! The Lego Land in Denmark, the Keukenhof in Holland, Berlin (when the Wall was still menacing), Munich and the German Concentration Camp at Dachau…

We (mostly Dad) would pack the back of the station wagon with our camping gear – the sleeping tents (built like a little hotel), the dining tent, and all the cooking gear – and we would head off…

We lived in Germany – so central to the majority of Europe, so we would just pack up and drive to anywhere we wanted to go! For the most part, the borders were open, but every now and then we would run into the American equivalent of border patrol, and they would want to conduct a full search of the very well-packed Chevy station wagon.

Dad would calmly say, “no problem! Go ahead and search everything! BUT – if you unpack everything to search it, you will HAVE to re-pack it as it was when you have finished!”

That was usually enough to get them to let us pass without incident.

Every year, and I’m not sure where this came from, Dad would joke about getting a Mercedes for Christmas…and it just recently dawned on me that my love for Mercedes must be a product of his love for the car maker….amazing how these things pass along generationally.

Dad…with 3 girls and 1 boy…

Served his country….travelled the world….supported his lovely wife (my mom) and 4 children along the way…

Retired…worked in the private sector…struggled with the transition but has remained the Dad I know and love…

Daddy has taught me so much – I can only hope that he is proud of who I have become. He is my Dad…my Dad…my only Dad. And I love him. And I am so proud he is my Dad. He is a great man.

I love you, Daddy! You mean more to me than you can possibly know!

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