Daddy's Little Girl

         There are so many things, so many memories; I really don't know where to begin, so I guess I'll begin as early as I can remember.
 
         My dad was always the strong silent type, and he was always the one to hand out the spankings, but he did it only when he had to, and he's told me today that he hated that Mom always made him be the bad guy, but I guess somebody had to do it. Besides, without him, I would not be the person that I am today. I can't thank him enough for all that he's done for me, the few (very few) spankings I got and all.
 
         Well, I guess there are the random memories of living on Rogers Drive in Shawnee, Kansas, like the way that the basement would flood. The cars that were in there that would get flooded too, (I can't remember if it was the Riviera or the Impala, maybe both, because I think it happened more than once). I do believe that it was in that house that I celebrated either my third or fourth birthday and I remember Dad sitting back in the corner of the dinning room with one of those silly birthday hats on trying to convince me that it was his birthday and he was turning three (or four), not me. I had my cake in front of me and my own silly hat and I was really getting frustrated with him because I knew that it was my birthday. I can't remember how this story ends because that's really the end of my memory, but it was still funny and it still makes me smile today.
 
         For the next few years all I really have are passing glimpses into what we did. Like I knew that every weekend in the winter we'd go over to my grandpa's house and he'd be down in the basement working on cars with grandpa and Uncle Randy, and that most every weekend in the summer we'd go down to the lake. That's my daddy's favorite place in the whole wide world cause it's the only place that he gets to relax. Not to mention all the memories that he has down there because Grandpa started building it the year before or the year after Dad was born.
 
         Over the years the lake house had changed, mostly growing to accommodate the size of our family. Thank God that it hasn't grown too rapidly over the years...but I have a feeling that's about to change here in the next ten years or so with my brother Andy about to have his first child (another little boy in the family, I can't wait).
 
         The next real memory that I have of my dad is when he grounded me to my room for two days for being like five (maybe it was fifteen) minutes late. He was not my favorite person those days, but let me tell you I was never late getting home from my friends house again.
 
         After that it gets into the years of his divorce from my mother...
 
         Those were tough and very dark years. I remember, it was the day after my twelfth birthday party, and I think that it was my birthday and I was sick in bed with the flu. Things were so bad between he and my mom that I watched as he walked up to the house hoping Mom would let him up to see me, if only for a minute, but knowing that she wouldn't just the same. Then I watched him drive away having left my birthday presents with my mom, who brought them up to find me crying in my bed.
 
         The next memory of my father was when he got Crystal, our little brown Chow puppy. I remember when we went on long car rides she would climb down between the drivers door and seat and fall asleep. She was a sweetheart. That was about the time that Andy was playing soccer and when Andy and Dad would go out back and kick the ball around, she would go bounding after it and then stand over it like, "Ha, I've got it now. What are you going to do about it?" Then when they'd walk up and kick it out from under her she'd stand there for a minute like, "Well, what did you do that for?" and then she'd run after it again. It was good days until she was hit by a car and passed away.
 
         The next memory I have of my dad is not a good one and I think I can honestly say that had he actually followed thru with his plan he would have kicked himself everyday for the rest of his life. You see, after the divorce was final, he was planning on moving away and never coming back, and not keeping in contact or anything. Well, Andy and I were heartbroken and devastated as we tried to digest the news sitting at that visitors center off I-70 before the exit for Grandpa's. I thank God everyday that he changed his mind.
 
         Next I remember the day that we met his future wife, Tammy, her daughter, Pam and her 'sisters' kids, Josh and Elisa. It was a fun day and over way too soon...but it was also the beginning of a beautiful family and friendship.
 
         There were so many memories at that trailer. Like the day that my father proposed to Tammy. Like the fairs at the fair grounds behind the trailer park, the movies that we shared, the chores that we did (sometimes), the fights that we had, the cake fights, the water fights and the dogs. How could I forget the dogs, God rest their souls.
 
         I don't think we'll ever really know what kind of dog Ebony was, but she could look really scary with her all her blackness and pure white teeth. She had been found behind a vet's office and would have been put to sleep if Uncle Randy hadn't brought her to us. She was a good dog and if Dad would touch Tammy and if she would pretend that he was hurting her, Ebony would growl and bark at him...I'm not sure if she knew that it was all fun and games, but it was and we'd all laugh about it. Then there was little Zelia who had to be in the middle of everything and had to get loved by all, oh wait, that's every dog I know! My bad, but she was a little sweetie and Ebony's side kick. Zelia would have been more lost than she was after Ebony died if it hadn't been for Prince, but that's for another day and another story.
 
         I must admit that there were times when I didn't go and see him as much as I should, but I was a young stupid kid, just trying to survive being a teenager, and being married at too young of an age...
 
         Dad never told me I was doing wrong though, he knew better. He knows just as I do that when it comes to being a Norman, don't tell them how to live their life or they'll just do the exact opposite of what you told them to do in the first place. The more you push them in one direction the more they want to go in the other direction...yeah, we're all bullheaded and stubborn, but I love each and every one of the other Normans in spite of it, or should I say because of it...yeah, I think I should. They wouldn't be family if they weren't like that.
 
         There was the time that Dad tired to teach me to water ski...I think I drank half the lake that day...or should I say inhaled half the lake. Why you ask? Well it was because I forgot the cardinal rule of skiing. When you're in trouble, what do you do? Drop the rope. I kind of forgot that part, and I haven't tried to ski since...hummmm, coincidence? I think not.
 
         There are so many memories to choose from as I got older. Like the day that he gave me away at my wedding. The entire time he walked me down the isle he was trying to make me laugh because he thought I was nervous, but I was actually pretty calm that day, looking back now I can't remember what he was saying to me, but just the same I appreciated it.
 
         About two years ago now, maybe a year and a half ago, he was diagnosed with bladder cancer. It was a hard hit, because right after he had his first biopsy at Olathe Med and was released (when he probably should have stayed there and had a blood transfusion or two) my cat, Panther, whom I'd had for more than ten or twelve years, died, and although Daddy was having trouble catching his breath just from walking, he still came over and helped me burry my cat in Mom's back yard. I didn't realize then how much he was struggling that day, but looking back now I know that it wasn't easy for him. He did it just the same, because he knew that he had to take care of his little girl. I love him more because of it...if that's humanly possible.
 
         Then came the day of his surgery (at KU Med this time) and him in the room afterwards, still heavily sedated and looking so close to death that I was having a hard time breathing, let alone not crying, because I couldn't bare the thought of loosing my daddy. I still can't, but I think that I've accepted it more now then any day before now, but not completely...who knows, maybe I'm just in denial...only time will tell.
 
         Next comes an example of my fathers’ sense of humor as we went for a long country drive to my daddy's favorite restaurant, some BBQ place in Springhill. I remember we were driving down some back country road and Tammy asked my dad, as she pointed at some tree we were getting ready to pass, "What kind of tree is that?" What was my fathers’ response??? "A pink one," he replied because it had pink flowering buds all over it. For the next five minutes (miles) or so Dad and I went back and forth about the different kind of trees, from white ones, to stick ones (bare trees with no leaves) to telephone trees (poles) to sign trees, and all the while we're all just laughing away. Then we moved on to cows. Now I don't know about you but I always wondered where they got strawberry milk and ice cream, and chocolate milk and ice cream, but after that day I no longer wonder, because chocolate milk comes from brown cows and strawberry milk comes from red cows and ice cream comes from frozen cows and yellow cows make cheese, and the paler yellow cows make Mozzarella cheese and Swiss cheese, but they only make Swiss cheese on Sundays... and on and on and on we went.
 
         Once we got to the restaurant it was more fun and games as a breaded and fried mushroom was accidentally dropped into Dad's Pepsi and how did it taste after that??? Kind of shroomy. I was rolling on the floor by the time the food arrived, and the people around us were starting to look at us funny, but we didn't care. We were having entirely too much fun to quit.
 
         My Daddy is one of a kind, and I want nothing more than to share with others how great of a man my father truly is, because after he's gone, I want everyone else to be able to remind me of the good times that I might forget someday. I also want everyone to know that a great man like him did once live on this earth and I want them to be blessed with having either known this man or heard of his at the very least. So with that, I dedicate this to my loving father. When I grow up, I want to be just like him.

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