You made that ring for me when I was a baby.
You taught the neighbor kid a lesson after he peed on me, while mom hosed me off.
You came home with a beard after being on the road. I didn't recognize you. You were void of that beard only two time after, that I can remember.
I had an appreciation for Johnny Carson at a young age. I'm still a night owl.
You brought that cat home from the tavern. She always licked our ears.
You would lay on the couch and I would bring you a glass of Kool-Aid, when we still added sugar.
You bought that camper. I loved it.You hated camping.We went once. It turned into our clubhouse.
We would pack up the U-haul and move. We were expert movers.
You would take us out in your hot rod truck and do cookies. It felt daring and scary and thrilling. I want to live a better story.
You would lay on the couch and I would make and serve you Ritz crackers and peanut butter.
You insisted that Michelle and I drive tanks to be safe, but remember when you helped me buy that Honda after my divorce.
You would blow dry your hair. I didn't know guys did that. I thought it was cool.
We would stay up on long drives to Nebraska when everyone else was sleeping. We would guess what each other was thinking.
You used to make that FUNNY FACE.
You made a speech once in a high school gym and I was in awe.
You gave waitresses a hard time when we would go to lunch after church.
You and I would go chop wood together. I would drive the straight stick out to the wood chopping spot. That's when I learned to drive.
We have serious deep conversations.
You graduated from a couch to a recliner. That's when I was old enough to make and serve you banana cream pie and rolls on Sundays.
We started calling you Norman Claus after Dean forced us girls to sneak at our presents under the bed.
I can't imagine calling a baby Norman.
You helped on every remodeling project I ever undertook with my husbands.
I called you on the phone screaming because there was a snake in my kitchen.
When I was a pre-teen, I'd rather hang out with you working construction than anything else.
I realized you weren't perfect and the love and respect remained.
I remember when those iron workers whistled at me before they knew I was YOUR daughter.
I remember the first time I made the dump truck, dump. I thought I was hot shit.
I know there's a solution to anything.
Remember that time Brian forgot his belt buckle at the rest stop and you whipped the car around in the ditch to go back and get it? Boy, were you mad. (Cadillacs used to be tanks.)
Remember when you bought that Matador car? What were you thinking?
I've learned that silence speaks loudly.
You always ordered the BIG Roast Beef sandwich at Hardies. To this day I love that sandwich.
You used to buy stuff from those television ads.This is how I knew you were still a kid at heart. Can you believe Ronco is still around?
You used to eat suckers all the time. I found a picture of Grandma with a sucker. It was the swirly LifeSaver kind. That made me smile.
In some pictures I'm the cute one and in others it's Michelle.
I look really young in these pictures too.
I'm pretty sure you're the only one in our family with blue eyes. Gavin is the only one in our family with blue eyes.
You like Johnny Cash and Johnny Horton. Oh and Dolly Parton.
I know what's it like to want to sit quietly, in solitude. Yet, silliness and laughter are at home to this same space. The contrasts puzzle me at times.
I still tell that flashlight story and still don't know if it is actually true.
Did you like Sunday family conferences?
I love it when you laugh. It's not roaring. You get this cute grin on your face.
It's okay to cry.