To Charles and Chuck and Norman and Ward...

My dad would be the first to say he wasn't a good one. He'd be dead wrong, but he'd be the first (and only one) to say it.

I think dad just didn't "get" kids. He's quiet and serious and shy, but also hysterical if you pay attention- his humor is very subtle but genius. MOM was the outgoing, social, take us places, do stuff with us, ruler of the household and enforcer of punishments. Seemed she was always hollering at us for something or threatening us with something and mostly it sounded to us like those old Charlie Brown cartoons where every adult voice is played by a muted trombone.

Dad is a professional photographer- a truly gifted news photographer who was wooed by every big paper from Milwaukee to Miami, but he declined them all- kept us in our home town because he believed it was the best thing for his family.

Dad never raised his voice or his hand- I remember ONCE being spanked by my dad. Three quick swats. I was about five years old and don't even remember the transgression but I'm pretty damn sure I never did it again.

*In retrospect I suspect it was either dumping my baby brother face down on the floor whilst he was still strapped into his infant seat on the sofa or sticking his tiny finger into the wall socket- after that I sorta gave up and accepted that he was gonna be a permanent addition to the family.*

Dad taught me to do the right thing even when it's not what you yourself want to do, and to care for your family even when they make you crazy... ESPECIALLY when they make you crazy.

Oddly enough (or maybe not at all) Ward shares some of the same traits as my dad- quiet, shy, subtle brilliant humor, crazy smart and courage far surpassing anything in the mortal world. He's never treated Alec like a baby or a child- always as another human, another thinking cognizant human and always with respect. He'll be the first to say he's not a good dad- he's dead wrong, and the only one to say it, but he fears it all the same.

Every single day Ward shows me by example- patience, graciousness, strength, love. And every day I absorb it all, but I'm afraid I give just a fraction back. Every morning I get up at 7am promising the Universe that I'll be patient and kind and calm and by 9am the Universe is very disappointed.

My grandfather on my dad's side was quick to tell me he was a terrible father, and he was right, quite honestly. He made some bad calls in life and he told me more than once that it always surprised him that my dad didn't end up in prison with the role model he had. By the time I came along, Grandpa Chuck was pretty leveled out and upstanding- had been married to the same wonderful woman many many years- his 5th wife Eloise who was quiet and elegant and a mechanical engineer- the first woman to attain that degree in Ohio- and he was her biggest fan- would take out drawings she'd done and pour over them amazed at the detail (which was amazing- all that was before computers and software and done by hand).

He was finally stable financially, and emotionally, and I absolutely adored him. He taught me to cook and play cribbage and place a bet at the horse track.

My grandfather on my mom's side was more like dad...and Ward. Grandpa Norman was quiet and stayed pretty much to himself- at their house he had a workshop in the basement he spent hours in- I don't even remember anything he did in it, but I do remember the photo on the wall above his workbench- a photo of himself and his 2 brothers all in uniform for WWII. They all came back- Norman and Carl to normal lives with normal jobs and families and Earl crawled into a bottle and stayed there.

Grandpa Norman's wife, Grandma Ellen, was a bundle of energy, always busy with something or other and always fretting about something or someone. Norman just tried to stay out of her way. Norman never had to wonder if he was a good dad, Ellen kept him pretty up to date on all his earthly transgressions as she saw them.

They had a cabin "up north" they went to every weekend and Norman fished. Every day. All day. He taught me to fish, and how to deal with difficult people, and to pay attention to details and numbers- he was a retired comptroller.

Happy Father's Day Dad, Grandpa Chuck, Grandpa Norman, Ward.

Ya'll made being a daughter, granddaughter, wife and mother so very easy.



Grandpa Norman and me...round about 1963.

Beyond Father's Day

My older two children- the ones that aren't children anymore being all grown up and whatnot- are products of my first marriage.

I had at least enough sense to not have any children with my second husband.

This "new" child- a mere 10 years old- is a product of my third marriage.

My husband (the third one- the GOOD one) has no other children even though he had a former wife. When I expressed my desire (pun intended) to have another child before it was too late- I was looking the big Four O straight in the eyes- he said "I don't know what the big deal is- any animal can reproduce".

About a year later he found out what the Big Deal is- actually the first time he felt that little critter kicking and punching inside me he started getting an inkling of the Big Deal-edness of the whole thing.

So we have this boy.

When alot of men, especially those who've never had to share their wives with anyone else, have children, they are adament about the baby sleeping IN THE CRIB.

We had a nursery set up in the big bedroom next to the kitchen. Three rooms away from our room.

Ward said "You can't put that baby in there- he's spent nine months right next to you and he'll be all alone way back there. In the dark". So that baby moved into the bed with us, and there were many times I'd wake up to see them staring solomnly at each other.

Ward's never talked down to Alec- has always treated him as another human- not a baby, possession or toy, and never an annoyance.

He has the patience that the saints WISH they had.

So, wait.

YESTERDAY was Father's Day, what's the lame idea of writing about this NOW?

Today we went in for the initial consultation with the occupational therapist for Ward's outpatient treatments- and though he's still almost 50 pounds underweight with all the weakness, lack of stamina and strength that go along with that, the main concern is his right shoulder.

Not this surgery (either one), but the LAST surgery over 2 years ago, they harvested a muscle from his back for the graft (the graft that failed necessitating THIS surgery/surgeries). This muscle holds the shoulder blade in place. When he had things like tissue and muscle back there, it was apparent that there were issues with that area, and truth told, he was supposed to go for physical therapy at the time but he was still frantically trying to hold onto his job for the insurance he so clearly needed to have, so he/we blew it off.

Now with nothing there but literally skin and bones, it's clear that he's really compromised in that shoulder- the blade pops out of place with little provocation and the entire area hurts like a son of a bitch most of the time.

So the therapist measured his reach, mobility and strength and recorded all of it. He had to fill out a ream of paperwork telling how difficult it is (on a scale of 1 to 5) to do things like lie down, kneel, balance, go up and down stairs, etc. ad nauseum.

At the end of the session, she asked him "Mr. Dixon- do you have any questions? Is there something in particular you want to be able to accomplish at the end of our working together?"

Ward loves to walk, to hike, to camp, to garden, to work on our property, to travel and sight-see everything from National parks to museums and I expected him to answer with any of these things.

But he was quiet, head down for a moment, then he looked past me to Alec- obliviously reading his latest Star Wars novel- and he softly asked

"Do you think I'll be able to throw a ball again?"