Happy Birthday, Dad

Today would have been my father, Robert Myers, 93rd birthday.  I hope wherever he is  he is celebrating.  I am sure there is BEER wherever he is or he wouldn't be there for long.  And some really good Dixieland music.  Gotta dance!

My Dad's folks split up when he was about nine or ten and after his father was killed in an accident, he was shuttled around to relatives and finally, against his wishes, ending up with his mother in New York City.  I always got the feeling that life in Chester PA was much more to his liking than New York City, even if it was a bit rustic.  I remember him telling me about one of the places he lived- his dad's girlfriend- who had INDOOR PLUMBING.  His dad had a roving eye, apparently,so that did not last.  He told me once that when he and my mother were arguing and he considered leaving, he thought of how he felt and knew he didn't want us to grow up like that.  They worked it out, whatever the problem was. 

My father served in World War II and was at the Battle of the Bulge.  His stories when we were kids made it sound like Hogan's Heroes, only later did the stories darken.  He never forgot the bitter cold of that Christmas in Belgium or the warmth of the Belgian people who fought with them against the Nazi's.  He told me about the women bringing their fine white linens out to cover the guns.  He asked them about it and they said that it was a small price to pay to be free.  The experience most certainly stayed with him all his life.  He never forgot the war or the people who did not make it home.   

I miss my Dad and have been "channeling" him lately.  I open my mouth and my father comes out!  I inherited his off-beat sense of humor, his love of cooking and his square fingers.  I did NOT inherit his dancing gene.  My daughter got that.  I wish I had more of his joie de vivre ; his sense that everything will work out if you let it.  He used to tell me "Don't take life seriously.  You don't get out of it alive."