I think back to the memories with my dad that make me feel special and love him.
The BIGGEST memory is, of course, SPORTS! My dad was a very good athlete and helped me to excel too. He wouldn't stand for anything less....though I am pretty sure that if I was NO GOOD he would still have loved me. I have numerous sporting type memories so I will just dive in with no apparent order, just as they come to my mind.
- The one that I tell the most is how we used to run (and yes he would run with me) to the Rec Center to shoot foul shots. I wasn't too tall but my coach put me as the small forward under the basket at times. I had my share of foul shots because of it. He decided one day that we would run over there and shoot 100 foul shots EACH and have a little competition. I'm always in for a good competition...and don't EVER 'let' me win! He would NEVER let me win...just would smoke me and then say, "Try harder next time!" So...we would shoot 10 then switch. The first 10 he would rebound for me and then throw it back, allowing me to keep my exact footing at the foul line. The next ten he would make me move 'just a little.' The next...I would move more. Until I was clear out of the rhythm and had to regroup for EVERY shot! He would then stand in the lane as if he were in the game and wave his arms. He got to where he would stand next to me and talk to me...trying to mess me up. Then he would yell at me! I'm pretty sure ANYONE in the Rec Center thought we were pretty crazy! The LAST 10 he would stand directly in front of me waving his arms and yelling! He was never close enough to block my shot, nor would he...but he wanted me to learn to concentrate ON THE BASKET, not the noise or the people. Boy, as I stood in Provo High School gym at the foul line with a sea of GREEN behind that basket...hardly able to see the rim...was I ever glad for this time with my dad! He wouldn't settle for 80%...and neither would I! He could do better than that and I wouldn't lose! So....I still can shoot foul shots with relative accuracy....not the 99% I was as a High Schooler, but not bad for 25 years later. He would also teach me to shoot beneath the basket without putting the ball on the floor. He's not super tall but he was taller than me so he would guard me. I'm so grateful my dad took the time to help me be a better basketball player.
- That is not the ONLY basketball story. The FIRST one I remember was in 7th grade. I had a breakaway layup and made the cardinal sin in my dad's eyes. I shot with my right hand on a layup on the left side. Oh boy....this was a big no no! After winning the game my dad kept me after and taught me right then and there to shoot a left handed layup. I felt awkward and silly....but he didn't care. I shot layup after layup after layup...missing many. I don't even remember HOW long I was there, but long enough to convince my dad that I would NEVER again shoot a with the wrong hand on a layup!
- I remember one time my dad flew in from California to watch me play a ballgame. I had NO idea he was coming! As we began the game and the coach was talking to us all I looked up in the stands, as usual, for my mom. Surprisingly, my dad was there too! I was SO excited. He worked in California so he rarely made it to my games. It was that game, I remember, that I had a bit of a sore throat. Dad had brought some cough drops and gave me one. I can't remember the name of them now, but could pick them out if I saw them. Silly me fell in love with them and had to have one EVERY game....a memory of my dad!
- When my dad was 35 we were all at the church basketball court....he made 3 hook shots from 1/2 court! He still had it!
- He would also play catch with me a lot and pitch to me! He never told me, but later my mom admitted to me that I would throw hard enough to hurt his hand! That was fun for me! He threw hard to me and I threw hard back! He was my biggest supporter and would come whenever he got the chance....college level, of course...summer softball growing up wasn't important enough, I guess! :)
- I remember as a very young girl having him help me walk on a pumpkin! And I remember being at a carnival or something big (this was when I was VERY small) and him coming back to the hotel room with his winnings...Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls, or a red bear, or something.
When my sister and I were young and we lived in California we would fly to Idaho to see my Father and his family (for those reading that don't know the story, my parent's were divorced. I call my step dad my DAD since he is the one that I grew up with. My biological father is my Father...there's the reader's digest condensed version to help you know WHO I am talking about - my DAD or my FATHER). My sister attributes her love of flying from this time. What I remember most is coming home and seeing my dad in the airport as I got off the plane ... always with a newspaper under his arm and a package of junior mints! Oh, I love junior mints (or maybe mostly the memory is what I love!!! tho I do enjoy the candy too)
My dad wasn't a big hugger but he would pinch your shoulder between your shoulder and neck. He wouldn't do it to hurt us, but just enough to cause a little tingling....his funny way of saying I love you! I remember coming home after I was married and living in TN. He put his arm around me and told me he was proud of me! His love was shown by time spent with me....my love language "quality time." (or at least ONE of them) He always wanted me to start up golf with him. I just couldn't get into it. He would chuckle each time I sliced the ball and it would fly off veering out and off to hook way right. He would try to tell me that it WASN'T like swinging a softball bat. I just couldn't figure it out ... so instead of correcting my grip and swing, I just turned to correct for where the ball would end up. Sadly, I would hit it more correctly at those times. So...our thing wasn't golf.
I do remember going fishing with him...HIS thing. One day he told us that the next day we would leave EARLY in the morning to head to Strawberry Reservoir. I think I woke up every hour the entire night. Most of those wakings I'm pretty sure I went in to my dad to see if we were leaving yet. Being a parent now I'm sure he was a bit frustrated! But I remember it well. Though I am not a big fisherman now, I loved going out on the lake with my dad. We would dress in layers because it was so cold in the morning. As the day got warmer we peeled layer after layer after layer off. Funny the things I remember....like the green sweats I had on UNDER my pants.
Middle of the night encounters with my dad never seemed to bother him. Or so I thought. One night I remember having a lot of bad dreams. I don't think I was plagued with them as a child, but this particular night was bad for some reason. I had gone into my dad more than once...and with EVERY blanket from my bed wrapped around me. His advice has stuck with me ALL these MANY years (in fact, I use it with my own children now). He told me to think about riding a rollercoaster or hitting a homerun! I never went in again that night. And to this day I pick an especially good memory...usually hitting a homerun, or maybe something more recent....whenever I have a bad dream. I think about it and usually am ok.
This list is far from exhaustive and all inclusive, by any means. But...
I'm lucky to have my dad! Happy Father's Day!!!
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