My fondest memories with Daddy usually involve outrageous behavior on his part—and a wonderful disregard for "the rules." It was probably against the rules to wade in the big fountain at Eastwood Mall when I was a little girl, but Daddy was keeping me entertained while Mama shopped, and my feet got tired, so he took off my shoes and socks and plopped me over in the splashy water to cool off a little. It was fabulous. When I was a little older—probably 11 or 12—I had to spend a couple of nights in Children's Hospital for some tests. Between the fear factor and an easily nauseated stomach, I couldn't eat a bite of hospital food. So Daddy went out to this swanky steak house called Gulas (which I don't think is there any more) and brought me a T-bone in a takeout box.
Scha-weet! When he and Mama were building their house, he came driving up to Grandme's, hauling all the insulation—ALL the insulation—in a Pontiac sedan. He looked like Ricky Ricardo that time Lucy and Ethel packed the car for the trip to California and only left him a little bitty peep hole right in front of the steering wheel. Fast-forward to graduate school at Baylor. Daddy was bringing me something in the pickup—I can't even remember what—but he thought he needed some extra weight in the truck—you know—ballast of a down-home variety. He arrived in front of my apartment, with hay swirling out of that pickup, yelling "Jed Clampett's here! Jed Clampett's here!" This was followed with, "I knew if I embarrassed you, you'd help me unload just to get me inside." He's a study in contradictions, my "June Bug." On the one hand—steady as a rock. Absolutely reliable. Always there when you need him, without fail. On the other—total loose cannon. You just never know what he might attempt. (He is very proud of the fact that he can move objects many times his body weight, given a few ropes and pulleys and gizmos. Objects like, say, my old piano.)
Sometimes I think Daddy's great life lesson to me is that anything is possible. At least, that's how he always makes me feel whenever my courage falters. Daddy is the king of "you'll never know if you don't try." I am blessed this morning with a father who not only enourages me to color outside the lines, but thinks it might be a real hoot to write on the walls:) Love you, June Bug! And very thankful for you.
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