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Today was a good day

So today a lot of good things happened.

Well some of them happened before today, but I just found out about them today.

First off, remember this craziness?  I heard from the lawyer today.  Apparently since I was never arrested, all he had to do was persuade the prosecutor that the cops were acting punitively and I was acting in good faith trying to balance what I had been instructed to do by my job, and what the law said. The prosecutor agreed, and declined to file the charges, and I am free and clear.  Case closed.

Whew.  That was a long time coming.  I already feel lighter.

Secondly, an op-ed I wrote a couple of weeks ago got printed over the weekend.  I found out about it today. You can read it, it only has one factual error that I know of.  You heard it here first.  I really was 5 the first time I read Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I didn’t make that edit.  Oh well.  It makes me look a little less full of myself.   Mad Props to Cori who first described Jasper Fforde’s brain as being made of cookies. People seem to like that line. Apparently we’ve already gotten a new mentor application in from someone who read the article.  YAY!

Finally my dad is back at work today.  The verdict is in, he had a TIA, no lasting damage.  Apparently his C-PAP machine (which prevents him from stopping breathing 90 times an hr) is his risk factor.  So he’s on aspirin, a blood thinner, and has to improve his diet and get some more exercise.

I really appreciate all your kind words, thoughts and prayers.  It was a shaky couple of days, and I’m so thankful that he’s in one piece still.  Someday I will have to introduce you all to him, via this blog, because he is the best man I know.  You all would love him too.

So all in all, a good day, and I’m ready to relax in my easy chair and be thankful for a while.

 

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The other morning my brother posted a status on facebook that made me eight kinds of envious.  Love my wednesday coffee mornings with my dad 

I wish I was close enough for morning coffee with my father.

Truthfully, I miss my dad.

A lot.

My dad was always the go to processor for me. I process everything externally, it’s how I think. He has this great ability to hear my blubbering, meandering, convoluted thought process and distill it to things that are right on the money. He is gracious and wise, and has taught me a lot of the wisdom that I possess.

He is the safest man I know.

I’m pretty sure that if it hadn’t been for his faith, I would have walked away from God years ago.

This one time, when I had stolen something from a young woman who lived with us and no one could prove it, he faced a dilemma.  This is what he told me. “Bekki, I want to believe you’re telling the truth, but something doesn’t sit right in my spirit.  I’m going to go talk to God and see what he has to say about it.”  And he did. I, being way old enough to realize when someone was manipulating me, knew that he talked with God, and the Spirit spoke back.  My inner response was “S*#t.  God is going tell my dad I’m lying, and then I’m really going to get it!”

My dad used to travel a lot for work.  Sometimes he’d come down to where I was at university, and pick me up and take me along.  We would talk for hours. 

He was the one who helped me have a healthy perspective on crushes I had.

He was the one who affirmed my beauty, both by the way he loved and treated my mother, and by the way he affirmed who I was becoming.

He had always been honest and real, and gracious.

Plus, he introduced me to the A-team.

When we lived in England growing up we never had a television.  You had to purchase a license for it, and my parents couldn’t justify the expense for the amount they would have let us watch.  The church T.V. lived in our hall closet, just tempting us children with it’s supposed wonders, those engrossing stories that we only got to see at friends houses, and on Weight-Watcher nights.

Mum was in Weight-Watchers, and so every Wednesday night she was busy.  This was good for us all around.  When mum cooked she either did fish, occasionally liver, but mostly something with lentils in it.  My favorite (to be read in the USC [1]) was when she substituted lentils for meat in the spaghetti sauce, and substituted spaghetti squash for spaghetti noodles. Let me tell ya, no amount of parmesan cheese can make that right.  Anyway, on Weight-Watchers night dad had to cook.  The thing he made best was pork chops and sauerkraut with fried potatoes and onions.  Oh how we loved that night.  Real Meat.  Not a lentil in sight. Crispy Potatoes and onions, usually accompanied about a story from my dad from when he spent a year in Germany as a boy.  We would eat, and then the T.V. would come out.

On Wednesday nights it was Night Rider, Street Hawk, or Air Wolf, followed by the A-Team.  It was a night of wonder.  We would gather in the living room and watch the awesome power of sentient machines, and the rebel men who drove them.  Then came the familiar phrase, and suddenly the screen was filled with the elite squad of commandos who had been framed for a crime they hadn’t committed.  Hanibal, Face, B.A. Baraccas, and Murdock.  Laughter, conflict, suspense, such fun!

Mum used to come home and she and dad would have these ‘discussions’ about how he was exposing us kids to such violence, and dad would talk about how no one was actually killed, and that the building of machines was awesome.  They would never come to a resolution, because every week it happened again. 

As an adult, every time I run into the A-team I get a powerful rush of nostalgia. It reminds me of those fun evenings. It reminds me of my dad.

My dad had a birthday about a month ago.  What I wanted more than anything was to be able to be there, celebrate with him, and take him to see the A-team movie.  I miss having the freedom that comes from being close.  My sister is taking him tomorrow for me. 

Enjoy it Dad, know I’m there with you in spirit.

You are the best man I know.

I love you.

We need to have coffee sometime, ok?

 

 

1. Universal Sarcastic Font.  

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