Dad's Birthday

I guess you could call me a "Daddy's girl," although both Dad and I would have cringed at that description. Much too twee for us. We shared a corny sense of humor and delighted in naughty jokes, once I was old enough that he thought I might have heard a few before. I miss the silly laughter.

We also loved arguing about politics in the evening over drinks on his lanai. He always said I was a tree-hugging, liberal hippie freak and I told him he was slightly to the right of Ivan the Terrible - you can imagine how spirited our discussions were. With deep mutual respect, we still enjoyed sneering at one another's political views as Mom sat by, rolling her eyes to heaven. I miss those wrangles, especially in election years. I know he'd have voted for McCain as he admired the man when he was a junior officer in Dad's command; I'd be in the booth canceling out Dad's vote come November.

Neither of us had any musical talent whatever but we enjoyed listening to music. He kept his stereo equipment in an old blanket chest with the wires running through a knothole he knocked out of the back; each evening after work when we were growing up, he'd put on a record and make a martini for himself and my mother, and they'd have a quiet cocktail hour before dinner. His selection of music ranged from Fats Waller's stride piano to Martin Denny, broadway musicals, early jazz and some classical. To this day, I can sing (very badly) all the words to "Two Sleepy People" and "Your Feets Too Big," and all of the Ella Fitzgerald Sings Cole Porter and South Pacific albums. I miss that music.

Dad loved raquet sports and played tennis nearly every day of his life. He was the Hawaii State tennis champion for his age group at 75. He maintained that he won that title because all the other competitors came to the matches on canes and walkers; that self-deprecating charm was as much a part of him as his warm brown eyes. I miss those eyes.

He bought his first computer at age 83 and used it frequently for email and word processing, although he cursed his Macintosh roundly whenever it crashed or refused to do his bidding. He bought the same kind as I had so he could phone me for instructions whenever he got stuck. He had the Irish gift of gab and could make even silly little incidents sound like fun. One time, when he hadn't printed anything in a long time, he turned on the printer to find that a whole colony of Hawaiian ants had taken up residence in his printer and came streaming out, carrying their babies over their heads, when he turned it on. We had a good chuckle over that one.

My Dad went to heaven 10 years ago, shortly after his 86th birthday; today would have been his 96th.

Happy Birthday, Dad. Save me a place on the Heavenly Lanai - I need a few fresh jokes, we still have some political issues to argue about, most modern music just doesn't do it for me, and I haven't had a gin and tonic since you left!