happy birthday dad

Today would have been my dad's 90th birthday. Of course I cannot say he would have lived to be ninety. His father, my grandpa, lived to 95, and dad's two older sisters lived into their nineties, so long lived genes would have been on his side. But, he took up the habit of smoking, probably in his teens, and didn't stop until he had a heart attack at the age of 55. It was a big one, and a couple years later he had another, forcing him to retire. He did not live a long life, as he died at 63. He certainly lived a life of variety. He was born at home in 1921, the fourth of 8 kids. At age 12 or 13 he quit school and went to work, it was the Great Depression and there were a lot of mouths to feed. He never had a Christmas as we know it, as poverty was a way of life. He grew up in rural Minnesota, worked hard, and played hard. At age 21 we was drafted into the Army, and was sent off to win World War II, the first time he ever left home. It would be almost 4 years before he came home again. During that time his big brother was killed in the war, and Dad saw and experienced things that he never, if ever, spoke of. He came back a changed man, according to my aunts and uncles. He was in the Battle of the Bulge, spending the brutal winter of 1944 - 45 in the Bastogne. He occupied Bergtesgarden after the end of the war. He was destined to be part of the invasion of Japan, but the atom bomb changed that. After the war, he came home, married my mom, and resumed a normal life. He was a chicken farmer, saw mill worker, deputy sheriff, bread truck driver, loading dock foreman, maintenance man, locksmith. He had a keen mind and liked his beer. He never laid a hand on me, although when he raised his voice, I would pay attention. He never made a lot of money, but we always had food on the table, a home, and clothes to wear. He loved my mom, his kids, and adored his grandchildren. Dad loved to fish, play cards, watch wrestling and soap operas (The Young and the Reckless, as he called them). He was an excellent marksman. He could fix anything and loved to build. In the late 70's I bought Dad a train set for Christmas. He never had toys as a kid, so I thought he might get a kick out of it. He loved setting up his little train set and showing it off, then placing it carefully in the little box he built to keep it in. He loved to go for drives and take off  with my mom in their camper trailer. Sometimes I would look at Dad and see a faraway look in his eyes, I wondered what he was thinking about, where he was in his, was he thinking about the war, his brother, the things he saw? In my life I have few regrets, but I do regret Dad did not live to see my boys. They would have loved him, and he would have doted and spoiled them. In my boys I see dad. I see the mischievous side in my youngest son. I see the intensity in my oldest. Dad really missed out on two great kids, not to mention the other grandkids and what exceptional people they grew to be. I also see Dad in my brother, and I suppose he sees Dad in me. The same, and different. And sometimes, I catch myself lost in thought, with a faraway look in my eyes. I would do that as a kid too, and Dad would say, " are you alright son? You look so lonesome.." Well, yes I am. I am lonesome for you Dad. Happy Birthday.