Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Question of the day...
If they made a movie about your life, what actor would play you? Leave comments on who that might be.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Hero's
Based on some of my earlier blog entries, it is evident I enjoy super hero’s. I like what they stand for, I like to read that even with their super powers, they still have some of the same struggles that you non-super humans have.
When I was four years old (or was it a month ago), I was at the barbershop getting a haircut, I remember asking the barber, "How come Superman doesn't have to get a haircut?"
I believe that the true measure of a man is how big his heart is, how freely he gives of himself to those who are in need or are less fortunate.
My dad was never the perfect father, but who is. As a pre-kindergartner I remember running out to greet him when he got home from work. I can still hear him say, “Hi buddddy!”. As I grew into my teens, I always became nervous around him as I knew he wasn’t very patient. I felt I had to always get something done faster in order to not upset him. In high school, a common ground my dad and I had was sports. I was fortunate to letter in three sports so this gave us the opportunity to always have something to talk about.
My parents but, especially my dad attended just about every athletic event I was involved in from the time I was a freshman through my senior year. I remember thinking it wasn’t a big deal if they were there or not but looking back, I appreciate it more than words. My mom and dad regularly drove two to four hours for either a football game, basketball game or a track meet and many of the other player’s parents weren’t as supportive as my folks. I think the only football games they ever missed was one game during my junior year (and I happen to get two interceptions) and one game during my senior year (when I scored my only varsity touchdown). In my senior year of basketball, I rarely got off the bench. But there they were, in the stands, supporting me, cheering for me and my team.
My dad has a series of books that he read when he was a kid. The later books in the series are quite rare and are valued at a small fortune. The main character’s name is Chip Hilton. Chip was your squeaky clean all American boy who was a terrific athlete, straight A student, worked part time as a ‘soda jerk’ and lived at home with his mom (his dad had passed away). Each book in the series focused on an event involving a sport. I think dad always wanted me to be like Chip, in another life I think dad may have wanted to be Chip himself. Anyways, I read the books when I was in 8th grade and I remember the look on his face when he found out I was reading them. My son Landen has now started to read them.
One of the things I’ve enjoyed about adulthood is the opportunity to get to know my dad as a person and not just my dad. With each passing day, I think I become more and more like him. Sometimes when I say something I find I’m asking myself when the hell did I turn into my father.
Dad didn’t have the best home life as a child. He was an only child and was home alone most of the time. By today’s standards, it would probably be considered neglect. When he was nine years old and living in Omaha Nebraska, he apparently waited at a bus stop for the bus. When he boarded the bus he handed the bus driver a piece of paper that had his grandparents address on it and said he wanted to go visit them. My grandmother at work receives a phone call from her mother asking if she and my grandfather wanted to eat dinner at their house. My grandmother indicated they had plans or something as to which her mother said, “Well you may as well eat dinner with us as Bobby is already here.” My dad, all of 9 years old took a city bus across town in Omaha Nebraska to visit his grandparents.
I think what I admire most about my dad is his stubbornness/determination (I’m not sure who is more stubborn, my dad or my wife). He admitted he was an alcoholic when I was 14 and has never had a drink since. He realized how much money he was spending on cigarettes and quit approximately three years ago. That takes guts.
Dad did the best he could to make my sister and my life better then his was. Looking back I wish we would have done more things as a family. Dad has several times apologized for this and had said it was because of his drinking that we couldn’t or didn’t do more things. I always tell him that it doesn’t matter as he is a different person and he and mom did the best they could.
As I’ve already said, sports have impacted both of our lives and have influenced us and our relationship. Prior to my freshman year of high school, I needed new football shoes. Dad told me that he just didn’t have the money. Years later he told me he was at the bar drinking around this time and he was telling his drinking buddies he didn’t have money to buy me football shoes. One of his drinking buddies pointed out that he can afford to sit at the bar and drink but he can’t afford to buy me football shoes. He said this was one of the reasons he chose to stop drinking.
The first sentence of this blog rings true for my dad. He would do anything for his kids and loves his grand kids more than life itself. I tell my kids that grandma may be the ‘easy’ one, but grandpa will give you the moon. I now call my dad my friend, I call my dad my hero.
I found out on last week that my dad, my hero has lung cancer.
I’ve smoked one cigarette since.
When I was four years old (or was it a month ago), I was at the barbershop getting a haircut, I remember asking the barber, "How come Superman doesn't have to get a haircut?"
I believe that the true measure of a man is how big his heart is, how freely he gives of himself to those who are in need or are less fortunate.
My dad was never the perfect father, but who is. As a pre-kindergartner I remember running out to greet him when he got home from work. I can still hear him say, “Hi buddddy!”. As I grew into my teens, I always became nervous around him as I knew he wasn’t very patient. I felt I had to always get something done faster in order to not upset him. In high school, a common ground my dad and I had was sports. I was fortunate to letter in three sports so this gave us the opportunity to always have something to talk about.
My parents but, especially my dad attended just about every athletic event I was involved in from the time I was a freshman through my senior year. I remember thinking it wasn’t a big deal if they were there or not but looking back, I appreciate it more than words. My mom and dad regularly drove two to four hours for either a football game, basketball game or a track meet and many of the other player’s parents weren’t as supportive as my folks. I think the only football games they ever missed was one game during my junior year (and I happen to get two interceptions) and one game during my senior year (when I scored my only varsity touchdown). In my senior year of basketball, I rarely got off the bench. But there they were, in the stands, supporting me, cheering for me and my team.
My dad has a series of books that he read when he was a kid. The later books in the series are quite rare and are valued at a small fortune. The main character’s name is Chip Hilton. Chip was your squeaky clean all American boy who was a terrific athlete, straight A student, worked part time as a ‘soda jerk’ and lived at home with his mom (his dad had passed away). Each book in the series focused on an event involving a sport. I think dad always wanted me to be like Chip, in another life I think dad may have wanted to be Chip himself. Anyways, I read the books when I was in 8th grade and I remember the look on his face when he found out I was reading them. My son Landen has now started to read them.
One of the things I’ve enjoyed about adulthood is the opportunity to get to know my dad as a person and not just my dad. With each passing day, I think I become more and more like him. Sometimes when I say something I find I’m asking myself when the hell did I turn into my father.
Dad didn’t have the best home life as a child. He was an only child and was home alone most of the time. By today’s standards, it would probably be considered neglect. When he was nine years old and living in Omaha Nebraska, he apparently waited at a bus stop for the bus. When he boarded the bus he handed the bus driver a piece of paper that had his grandparents address on it and said he wanted to go visit them. My grandmother at work receives a phone call from her mother asking if she and my grandfather wanted to eat dinner at their house. My grandmother indicated they had plans or something as to which her mother said, “Well you may as well eat dinner with us as Bobby is already here.” My dad, all of 9 years old took a city bus across town in Omaha Nebraska to visit his grandparents.
I think what I admire most about my dad is his stubbornness/determination (I’m not sure who is more stubborn, my dad or my wife). He admitted he was an alcoholic when I was 14 and has never had a drink since. He realized how much money he was spending on cigarettes and quit approximately three years ago. That takes guts.
Dad did the best he could to make my sister and my life better then his was. Looking back I wish we would have done more things as a family. Dad has several times apologized for this and had said it was because of his drinking that we couldn’t or didn’t do more things. I always tell him that it doesn’t matter as he is a different person and he and mom did the best they could.
As I’ve already said, sports have impacted both of our lives and have influenced us and our relationship. Prior to my freshman year of high school, I needed new football shoes. Dad told me that he just didn’t have the money. Years later he told me he was at the bar drinking around this time and he was telling his drinking buddies he didn’t have money to buy me football shoes. One of his drinking buddies pointed out that he can afford to sit at the bar and drink but he can’t afford to buy me football shoes. He said this was one of the reasons he chose to stop drinking.
The first sentence of this blog rings true for my dad. He would do anything for his kids and loves his grand kids more than life itself. I tell my kids that grandma may be the ‘easy’ one, but grandpa will give you the moon. I now call my dad my friend, I call my dad my hero.
I found out on last week that my dad, my hero has lung cancer.
I’ve smoked one cigarette since.
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