Memories of Dad: Part IV

Two months have passed since my dad's Celebration of Life service. It feels like yesterday or five years or not real, depending on the day, my mood, my thoughts and emotions, etc. What can I say about my dad today? What haven't you already heard or read?

Did you ever hear about the time my dad thought there was a skunk in our motel room on a family vacation? It was the middle of the night, and I had gone to bed with a newly-gifted-to-me stuffed Mickey Mouse. Do you see where this is going? Well, apparently, Mickey left my side at some point during the night and got away from the bed I was in. At some point after, my father woke up and in his tired, travel-worn state of mind saw Mickey on the floor. In his mind, in the dark, Mickey morphed into a skunk. I think he probably woke my mom up and began formulating a plan of how to get the skunk out of the motel room. Well, now that story is legendary in our family.

Do you have those legendary, shared family memories that pop up in your mind? Then you turn to your sibling or parent and say, "Hey, Mom, you remember when...?" The sad thing for me now, as I remember these moments of family lore and legend and shared experience, is that my dad isn't here to add his two cents, defend his crazy belief that a skunk was in our room, or give his perspective on the memory - truth or fiction. It's a sad thing to think of, yet the memory also brings laughter to my heart, a smile to my face, and a shake to my head.

My father was our main or only driver on many family road trips. Whether we were going to Arizona by way of Tennessee (or was it the other way around?) or going to Texas for a wedding or to bring my brother to college in Kansas, he was most often the one behind the wheel. And that's only the tip of the road tripping iceberg. He drove a lot of miles. Another legendary story in our family involves snow in Arizona or New Mexico. A lot of snow by their standards. And the four of us (Mom, Dad, Bob, me) with our CB in our little car. Word got around to the truck drivers that a car from Minnesota was on the road. My dad, in that moment, became advisor to several truck drivers on the road near us. Their limited experience with snow in that part of the country led them to seek advice from the "crazy" (or shall we say wise/knowledgeable) Minnesotan driving the little car in this irregular snowstorm. If that isn't someone touching lives he never knew he would, what is? It kind of makes me wonder if any of those truckers ever thought of the Minnesotan on the other end of the CB in later snowstorms or just as the memory might flit through their mind with a shake of the head at the uniqueness of the whole situation.

My dad lived a series of amazing moments that touched hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. As we enter into this coming season of holiday gatherings and heart-stirring occasions, please consider how you are touching and interacting with the lives of those around you. You are leaving an impression, whether you know the receiver well or you helped them through a snowstorm over your CB. Make it a good one. A God-honoring one! My father would likely encourage you to do the same.