Memories of Papa: Happy Birthday Dad (July 29)

When I was a child, this day would be spent watching dad unwrap the present I had meticulously chosen for him from Canadian Tire. Some years the gift was camping gear, like some new fish hooks or a compass. Other years it was gummy candy and a six-pack of blank VHS tapes. No matter what the year or gift was, I always remember watching his face and hoping for a smile as he unwrapped it. I was never disappointed.

Last week we experienced dad’s first birthday since he passed away. I’m not going to pretend getting through the day was easy. But I did manage to find some quiet time to sit down and just remember some of those moments we both smiled as I grew up.

In honour of dad’s birthday, here are some stories from happier family times:

Yukon Mice Are Strong

We had many fantastic family vacations, but the best one ever had to be our trip to the Yukon. Mom and Dad loaded us three kids into a station wagon, hitched up a trailer, and made the treacherous drive up the Alaska Highway (back when the Alaska Highway truly sucked).

I don’t remember exactly where we were in our trip, but I do remember us kids throwing rocks into the water. There was a bridge off in the distance. There was some sort of motel behind us. And much to our parents’ chagrin, there were some fishermen between us rock-hurling kids and the water. I don’t really recall how many times they had to ask us to stop hurling rocks, but I do remember they were getting kind of mad. So we stopped. And as soon as the folks turned their backs...one good and fast rock went whizzing past them, narrowly missing a fisherman before making a satisfying KERPLUNK into the water.

However, my brother proceeded to explain that while he certainly did not throw any more rocks, he did see a mouse grab a rock and throw it. Mom and Dad laughed at that explanation for years to come.

I’m still a bit put out that my brother totally got away with throwing that rock.

Everybody was Croc-Fu Fighting

In some countries, if you throw your shoes at someone you are hurling great insult and disrespect their way. But at mom and dad`s house, throwing shoes was a sign of loving affection. Named for the ugly garden shoe that everyone loves to wear in inappropriate places, Croc-wars were the invention of Dad and his grandson Matty. They would both place a Croc on each hand, and then try to slap each other silly with them. Matty would literally scream with delight. Sometimes, he laughed until he puked. Papa usually won (although I’m pretty sure he cheated).

Eventually slapping each other with crocs escalated into throwing crocs at each other. Landing a shoe in the face was often met with much laughter and merriment, and we have many photos of brightly-coloured crocs flying through the air to prove it.

How did such a strange family activity get started? I have no idea. But I’m glad it happened.

When One Cake Just Won`t Do

My dad loved nothing more than giant family picnics and family gatherings in the back yard of the family home. He loved to celebrate everything. There were back-yard parties for family day, birthdays, and anniversaries. Quite often, he didn’t need a reason at all.

In 2007, we celebrated dad’s birthday with a family gathering in the back yard. I remember him being very calm and happy hanging out with Mom, us kids and the grandkids on the patio. The weather was perfect. We all laughed too hard. We all ate too much food (there were TWO birthday cakes for some reason that I can no longer remember).

We all smiled so much.

Happy birthday dad.

Photo 1 caption: Dad celebrates his birthday with TWO cakes at our family home in Calgary, Alberta in July 2007