Great Women - Great Men - Great Dads - Together we make the world a better place.

From my sister, Michelle,  to my Dad. Michelle and are different in many ways and alike in others.  We have a mutual respect for each others differences and qualities.  I love my family.

THANKS, DAD

One of the first things you teach a young child is to say “Thank You”. It seems so simple, but as we get older and experience more of life, sometimes we forget how important those two words are. I’d like to let you know that I learned that lesson well, and would like to say “Thank You” for all the things you have done and taught me.

THANK YOU—

You spent weeks at a time away from your family to provide a comfortable life for us. You would stay in sparsely furnished apartment and eat the same pot of goulash all week long. I loved going with you to those apartments during the summer, cooking for you and being the “gopher” on the job site. You would come home on the weekend and fit in all your “fatherly” duties with kindness, love and patience. It was a sacrifice for both you and Mom I know. I learned that your family is always number one, and you do what you have to do to provide.

THANK YOU—

I wasn’t holding up on my end of the bargain in taking care of my dog Whiskers, you said, “We’re getting rid of the dog”. I promptly said “I hate you”. You made me write that out ten times and post it on the refrigerator. I don’t remember how long it hung there, but I do remember how much it hurt to see every time I walked past it. You knew I didn’t mean it, and so did I. I learned two very important lessons from that. First, if you say something you’d better mean it, and that words can hurt. I try to practice those lessons every day. I know now you would have never really gotten rid of my dog.

THANK YOU—

I remember so many times you would tell jokes at the dinner table. Mom would get upset sometimes because they were a little off color and say “Norm”!! You would do that little jig and we would just laugh. You would get that little glint in your eye and that funny grin. I learned that humor can sometimes be your best weapon. I think many would say I’ve learned that lesson very well.
THANK YOU—
You were “green” before they called it that. We picked and cleaned bricks for the house across from the tennis courts in ditches, pig lots and torn down school houses. The shop is built out of “recycled” wood from the University of Iowa Rec Center. My shed is made out of almost exclusively re-purposed materials. I think all we bought was the cement, one window and some shingles. I learned the importance of a dollar.

THANK YOU—

When your construction company went under and we lost the house with the pigpen bricks I was devastated. I remember going into the cubbyhole under the stairs and crying for hours. We moved into the 2 bedroom apartment, you and Mom gave us kids the bedrooms, and your bed was in the living room. I remember being able to hear the upstairs neighbors using the bathroom, and the insulation in the apartment being so bad my sheets froze to the wall in the winter. We eventually bought the Finke house and remodeled it together. You and Mom made sure Kim and my room’s were done first so we could move in first. Some of my fondest memories are in that tiny apartment, and fixing up the Finke house, including scraping 3 layers of wallpaper off the ceilings. I learned that possessions are just that-possessions. Nothing replaces family and hard work will always be rewarded.

THANK YOU—

I think every one of my dates met you in your T-Shirt and underwear while sitting in that big brown recliner. You would be eating peanuts and have skins and shells in your chest hair. You were always polite and said very little, but the message was always loud and clear- “Don’t mess with Norm’s girls”. I learned that quiet strength is powerful, sometimes you say more by not saying a word, and “don’t mess with Norm’s kids-if you do, you’ll be sorry.” Just in case my dates didn’t get that message from you, they got it from my brothers…You must have taught them the same lesson.
 
THANK YOU—

Every remodeling project I have had has your stamp on it. I am really the least apt of all the kids when it comes to the construction trade. You do your best to be patient and teach me things. My husband has learned so much from you, and not only about construction and woodworking. He wasn’t lucky enough to have the same type of father figure in his life. Thank you for showing him the same type of fatherly love you’ve always shown me.

THANK YOU FOR:

Sitting on the porch during thunderstorms counting the seconds between lightning and thunder to see how far away the lightning was.

Going mushrooming on Pansy Hill. We were hot and thirsty and all you had was a Pabst Blue Ribbon. That was my first sip of beer.

Letting me drive home from the pitching clinic in Des Moines. I was only 13 and was driving on the interstate! Mom had a cow when she found out. You calmly said “She did just fine.”

Calling my cats your “grand kitties” and calling to check in on them when they are ill.

I am so fortunate to have grown up in such a close, loving family. The older I get the more I realize how lucky I am. I always assumed everyone had what we have, but really my experience is more the exception not the rule. THANK YOU.

Happy Father’s Day Dad! I Love You

Hallmark Cards are Overrated

Dad,

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.