An 80th Birthday Tribute

Last year, my father-in-law texted me one of the most strangely amazing compliments I have ever received about my writing. I had posted a blog about the legendary Rojo the Llama who had just died. Rob’s dad texted, “Your tribute was so beautiful that it almost tempts one to die, just to get an obituary written by you. I can’t say more than that.” 

Well, I would MUCH rather write a tribute than an obituary! So, in honor of his 80th birthday, let me tell you about Rob’s dad, Carl. We call him Dad.

The first time I met Dad – in May 1990 – he was standing expectantly outside the entrance to Disneyland. He had a big, warm smile, a friendly greeting, and a camera. 

Rob and I had been dating for only a few months, but we were getting pretty serious. I was visiting Rob for the weekend (we lived about 400 miles apart) and we were going to spend the day at Disneyland. Through his job at a huge ketchup and oil company, Dad had some free passes into the Magic Kingdom. Rob arranged to have Dad meet us outside the gate so that we could get in for free. How cool that Rob came with such perks! 

I was a bit nervous meeting Dad – he was the first family Rob introduced me to. But Dad quickly put me at ease with his southern warmth. And then – as I would eventually learn is very characteristic – he asked to take a photo. As Dad aimed his camera at Rob and me, I assumed he was going to show the photo to the rest of the family curious about this new girlfriend. I have no idea if he ever did. And I have never seen the photo – another trait I would learn is pretty characteristic. SO many photos taken…but where do they go?!?

My first picture with Dad, in July 1990.
We were celebrating Rob’s and my very recent engagement
in a dining room not very recently decorated.

 

Despite joining the family in a whirlwind of a matter of months, I felt quickly embraced and welcomed, in large part to Dad. Born and raised in Virginia, Dad is a southern gentleman through and through. He always greets you with a broad smile and a genuine delight in seeing you. If you are in his home, you might get your coat off before being offered a cold beverage. This offer will be made frequently throughout your visit. 

Dad is an amazing storyteller. His memory is ninja-sharp, able to recall not just the names of high school teachers and the classes they taught, but which period of the day he took the class and who he sat next to. The ability to recall the smallest details makes Dad’s stories rich with color and scene-setting. With Johnny Carson as a favorite comedian, Dad also knows the importance of just the right timing when delivering a laugh line. 

Like we all do, some of Dad’s stories have been told a few times. Several years ago, he asked us to tell him when he starts a story that we have heard before. It’s a kind offer, but I would truly hate to miss out on another telling of the Scuppernong grapes or the Detroit riots. 

Dad is never in a rush. He moves with the relaxed ease of a window shopper, taking the time to look around and enjoy the moment. He is almost always the last to finish his meal at family dinners, and he is usually the last ready to leave the house or restaurant or event. Whether it is southern upbringing or wisdom…or both…Dad seems to savor the moments of life as gifts and is slow to let them pass. 

Dad is a fantastic dancer. I first discovered his happy feet at a family wedding in 2006. We were all gathered in a Texas courtyard under the stars when some ‘50s doowop came on. I love that music…as does Dad…and before I knew it, Dad was leading me around the dance floor like a pro, twirling me around, gently guiding my back to turn me one way or another, our feet twisting and flicking but never touching. I knew my back was going to scream at me the next day, but I could not have cared less. Rob is decidedly NOT a dancer, so it was such a gift – to both me and Rob – to dance with a confident partner. It was such a cherished moment, it was my motivation ten years later. Another family wedding was on the horizon and I was recuperating from a knee surgery. 

“What are your activity goals?” my physical therapist asked. 

“To dance with my father-in-law at a wedding in September.” 

And so we did.

Dancing at Ryan and Mary’s wedding in November 2006.
We danced at Matt and Chelsea’s wedding ten years later
but sadly there is not such epic photographic proof.

 

Other favorite Dad moments have been conversations just the two of us. Times when I have asked for his career advice since he is the one person in my extended family who truly understands what marketing research is. Times when I have shared and asked for insight about his first born. Times when we have been in cahoots about surprise gifts like a weather station or a photo album. Those times have been so special to me, when I have had Dad all to myself and have been able to ask about the tiniest of details and probe the vortex depths of his memory. 

Dad loves Elvis and baseball and driving. He loves laughing and chatting and hosting. Most of all, though, Dad loves family. I truly believe Dad is at his most content and joyful when he is surrounded by the laughter and chatter and ribbing of his kinfolk. When his mom and younger sister were still alive, Dad made more-than-annual treks across country in his Chevy Trailblazer to hang out in Virginia for a spell, catching up with cousins and classmates and neighbors. He often drove alone, preferring to see America unfold through a windshield instead of whizzing by through an oval window 30,000 feet above. 

Although Dad had a decades-long and successful career marketing tomato paste and pudding cups and popcorn and cooking oil, I am pretty certain the job he has loved the most is being a dad. He was 25 when Rob made him a dad for the first time. He was just shy of 51 when Rob’s youngest brother was born. 

Dad has been parenting, guiding, advising, and mentoring for over two-thirds of his life. And he is a master at it. His hand is not heavy, and his words are intentionally chosen. As his seven kids have grown…and added spouses and grandkids to the clan…Dad has deftly known when to step in and when to remain an observer. He is always quick to help when asked, often going way beyond what was hoped for. 

As a personal example, several years ago, I was hopelessly e-searching the nation’s Targets for a very specific and very elusive llama Christmas decoration for our front porch. I sent pleas to friends and family across the country. Always up for an adventure and the challenge to do the impossible, Dad managed to find not one but TWO highly-coveted Tinsel Llamas two states away. The details of his wizardry remain legend.

When you get married, you don’t just get a spouse. You get a family. I did not understand that when I married Rob at 22. But at 52, I am acutely aware of how lucky I am to have gotten Dad and the rest of Rob’s family in my marriage vows. 

Thank you, Dad. Thank you for welcoming me into your family, thank you for treating me as one of your own, thank you for the llamas, thank you for the dances, thank you for the conversations, thank you for the encouragements, thank you for the love. 

Happy Birthday, Dad! You are the biggest perk.

We didn’t have a professional photographer on our wedding day.
We didn’t need one. We had Dad.