Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

What Have You Done With My Father?

Fourth of July is just around the corner, so we all know what that means. . . some alien takes over my father's body. Don't get me wrong, I fully realize that people change as they get older; tough men seem to soften. But this goes beyond that.

I always knew my dad loved me, of that there was never a doubt. But there was let's say, a lack of affection or perhaps celebratory attitude. Let me give you an example. The thing I remember most about my high school graduation was that my dad hugged me. He NEVER did that; he just wasn't a hugger. He showed his love and devotion by working hard and providing for us. Holidays were great for us as kids, but it seemed that Dad found all the hoopla more of a distraction from things that needed to be done. Oh, don't misunderstand - Thanksgiving meant quail hunting which he loved and all holidays had some sort of athletic competition such as football, softball, or maybe even tennis. Of course, for the last about 40 years he's been saying this would be his last year playing. "I'm getting too old for this." Yet, somehow at 72 he still finds a few good passes in him.

So what's the change then? Well, my no-hoopla-holiday father has in the past years become holiday obsessed. The first day of September he begins growing his white beard out so he looks like Santa by the holidays. (Many kids have stopped being brats in Wal-mart when they see his bowl full of jelly turn down the aisle.)

He has dressed as Father Time - which quite honestly was a little disturbing especially when he asked me to post the picture on Facebook.

Here comes Independence Day - which means. . . A PARADE. There have been times when the parade consisted just of my family members because every one in their right mind wasn't coming outside for a 5 minute parade in 105 degree weather with 100 percent humidity.

I received my instructions last week of my parade duties. I was to make a CD with 5 patriotic songs - he was very definite about the the songs and the order they should be recorded:
1. God Bless the USA (Lee Greenwood)
2. God Bless America
3. It's a song with Green Beret in it - I'm sure you can figure it out - those were his instructions to me.
4. America the Beautiful
5. Okie from Muskogee - doesn't everyone consider that a patriotic song?

So he says, "So those songs will just keep playing over and over, right?"

Me: Dad, the parade is less than a mile; how slow do you intend to drive the motorcycle?

Dad: Speaking of motorcycle, I was thinking since Reese is in Minnesota, I'll need someone to ride in the sidecar and throw candy. How about Bruce?

Bruce is my husband of not even a month though we have known him all our lives. I'm not sure if this is a rite of passage or he just can't think of anyone else to 'convince' to do it.

Dad: Now, you'll need to go to Wal-mart and get him a red, white, and blue shirt and cap. Unless you think he'd like to wear the Uncle Sam costume. But that is really more of my thing.

Shaking my head and smiling, I try to mesh the hard working, matter of fact father of my youth with this wonderfully crazy holiday obsessed man before me. I don't know what has happened over the years, but I'm so blessed to have known both men.

Daddy's girl (just don't tell him that - he'll gruff and say that I'll get over that),
Audra