Making Memories

I'm not a person for taking photos. I will take them of the dogs, but everything else falls by the wayside. A friend mentioned the other day that I'm too busy being part of the memories to worry about photographing them. This got me thinking. I have a lot of photographs from various family gatherings. However, my favorite memories live in my heart. 

Tis the season... And these days, I get lost in memories. I let the reminiscing carry me where it will since I believe that I'm supposed to learn from them. When this popped up in my feed the other day, my very favorite memory came to mind.

I was a little girl, probably around 8 or 9. Most of you know that I was a farmer's daughter. And it was a life that I loved more than anything. Of course, growing up on a dairy farm, life and death were always lurking about. Life was my favorite part. Better yet was the babies. Dreams of being a vet filled my days. My dad saw me. He really saw me and knew me better than most. 

It was a cold night. I was fresh from the bath and in my warm flannel nightgown. Dad was in the barn, waiting for a cow to give birth. Mom was getting my brother into his nightclothes when Dad called up from the barn. The cow was in labor and he thought I'd like to be there to see the calf come into the world. I remember Mom saying, "But she just got out of the bathtub." Whatever Dad said to her, I heard Mom say, "I'll send her down." I put on my winter barn boots and my winter coat before making the trek down to the barn. 

I close my eyes and I can still smell the warmth of the barn. The scent of warm milk mixing with the smell of the cows. To most people, the odors alone would make them roll their eyes. To me, it is home.

Anyway...Dad was leaning against the barn wall, waiting and watching. He had a thermos of coffee in case it was a longer night than he hoped. I remember the silence as I stepped in front of him and he hugged me tight as we waited. Eventually, he turned an old bucket upside down and had a seat, pulling me into his lap. We sat in complete silence as we watched the cow tremble and push. Slowly, the feet began to emerge and I held my breath. Dad smiled and rubbed my back, reminding me to breathe. Eventually, the calf, a huge bull, was born. Dad got up and cleaned the newborn, made sure he could stand, and let the new baby eat. Once mother and baby were bedded down for the night, we turned off the lights, then walked hand in hand back to the house.

No words were spoken between father and daughter that night, but volumes were said. And the most amazing memory was made. In that moment, I was seen as the person I was becoming.

It took over 30 years before I felt that way again...seen for who I was and who I was becoming. That memory began with a funny comment and the beautiful laugh that belonged to the man with the charismatic smile and that memory is for another day. And while this memory belongs solely to him and me, this song means so much to me because of the truth it holds.

Kings and Daddies

There's a meme out there that tell us that you can tell when a man was raised in the arms of a Queen. I was a daughter, raised at the knee of a King.

I've been having a lot of conversations lately about why I am the way I am. I've always been blessed by the men in my life. They are the standard by which I measure the men I date. And trust me when I say that to date me, you've got some pretty high standards to achieve.

To me, my grandpa was Superman! He could do anything! Leap tall buildings in a single bound, save a neighbor girl from certain danger, melt a Tupperware bowl with butter in it on a hot toaster. *G* He and I had such a special bond. I was his only granddaughter.

He was determined that I would grow up to be a lady. He taught me the proper way to hold my silverware and how to wear my hats so I didn't get "cauliflower" ears. If it had an engine, he could fix it. His grease-stained t-shirts and green pants stick in my memory. Every time I had a chance, I'd make him cherry pie and take it to him. It was his favorite. What I wouldn't give to make him one more cherry pie and sit for a Sunday afternoon visit...

Some girls are lucky enough to be raised by their heroes. I know I was. This happy boy in this picture had more demons to deal with than he ever imagined. However, he taught his daughter what it means to be strong and to play the hand that Life deals you.

His teasing ways taught her to take a joke and enjoy the little things in life. He worked hard. I don't remember a time when Dad wasn't busting his ass for something. He, like Grandpa, could fix anything with an engine. He might have to cobble it every now and again, but he'd make it work. I can't begin to count the times when he'd call me and say, "I'm changing oil in the cars today. I may as well do yours while I'm at it." His knuckles were often scraped and bloody, his hands calloused. It couldn't be said he took the easy way out of anything.

And his sense of humor knew no end. One year, he made a "sponge" cake for the minister's wife. He frosted it with Cool Whip and made it quite pretty. We were having a dinner at the church that day and Dad carried it in with pride, telling her how he made it himself. The poor woman felt so bad as she tried cutting it with a butter knife. I remember Dad sitting there laughing so hard with tears streaming down his face. The minister's wife was so relieved to find the sponge under the whipped cream! She didn't want to hurt his feelings. Then, there was the year of the balloon cake. He blew up balloons, coated them with Cool Whip, and refrigerated it for his girlfriend's daughter. He was damn proud of himself! The girl cut into the cake and whipped cream flew everywhere! When it was all over, Dad was on the kitchen floor, laughing so hard he couldn't stand. (Yes, he did clean up the mess!) He loved to make people smile. 

I've been told that I'm a Queen because I was raised at the knee of a King. Actually, I was raised at the knee of a couple of Kings. They were my heroes. They were the center of my world, even when they didn't know it. They were the first men I ever loved. They have both left this earthly realm and I miss them so much! They taught me what it means to be loved and to not accept anything less than I deserve. They were men among men and I am so blessed to be able to call them mine! Happy Father's Day!!