Starting young, he’d throw us up in the air and (loudly) say vagoomba! I had really long hair and he’d hold me upside down and “sweep” the floor. I’d laugh like crazy. He took us for motorcycle rides in the woods and we hardly ever wiped out. We’d putt putt around the neighborhood and the dogs would chase us. That was fun.

We’d go to McDonald’s (back in the carryout only days!) to bring dinner home for the whole family and he and I would eat a couple bags of fries before we got home! My dad took us to Baskin Robbins all the time. Really a lot. It seems like several times a week to me, but it was a long time ago. I liked Chocolate Cherry Cordial – but they discontinued it. Maybe around 1973. I still check the flavors everytime I go there to see if they’ve miraculously brought it back after all this time. I drive past that shopping center every once in a while. It’s not the same at all. There’s a discount store – really low end – and the sub shop that used to be there is gone. There’s a Subway and an insurance storefront.

My dad used to keep a tank of helium in his trunk and blow up balloons for the neighborhood kids. That is, until some woman called the police thinking he must be a criminal of some sort trying to entice children. I think that was around 1970. And it was so sad. No more balloons.

We always had magnets to take to school for science class, since that was my dad’s business. How fun is that?! He even used to come in and show the kids how to magnetize and stuff. (Now I do that!)

Every Sunday, we’d take a “ride in the woods” — somewhere, anywhere around 1-3 hours from here where we could end with a meal and come home. I have such memories of the “cow restaurant” in Media Pennsylvania (I think it was really called Longhorn, but there was this huge cow out front!) and of Goetz’s in Ellicott City, MD which closed about 30 years ago. I still think Goetz’s had the best pineapple hamsteak of all time. We went to Zinn’s, a Pennsylvania Dutch diner and ate lots of starch and homemade apple butter.

We’d play “left right left right”. That’s when the kids take turns at every intersection deciding which way to go. The driver had to listen. We’d try to get to Windy Valley for soft ice cream, but usually ended up lost. Then my dad would hand my brother, sister and me the map. We’d figure out where we were and tell him how to get home (or to wherever we were going). That was fun. And we played the map game at dinner. That’s the game where he’d say…”you’re heading north on interstate 15 and you come to interstate 70. Where are you?” Bryce Canyon, Utah, of course. (Understand where I got the research-geek gene now?)

When I was 11, we went on a cruise. It was a French cruise line. For months before the cruise, we ate in the dining room and spoke only French. We’d rock gently as we ate, to prepare ourselves for eating onboard a ship. You’ll never guess whose idea that was. I admit, I thought pamplemousse meant ‘thank you’ for the longest time. But I digress.

A lot has happened over the years since then. But one thing never changes. My father is always happy. He’s always the glass 9/10 or more full guy. Even after the motorcycle accident that caused the stroke that made him have to re-learn to read and write. Even after the cancer. Frankly, even during the cancer. He’s a terrific grandfather (though the boys do clink their glasses with a knife because of him) and the best father I could ever wish for.

So when my first husband told me in anger that I’m just like my father, I felt proud. The only problem was, he didn’t much like my father. But I do.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

PS: My father has never turned on a computer. So he’ll never read this post. But that’s okay… he knows how much I love and respect him.