If I were to write a book, (which I kind of did), that is what the title would be.
This is a father's day post dedicated to my Dad. Allow me to share a story, a true story.
Back in 2001 my Mom's mother passed away. The funeral was to happen in Eagar Arizona and at that time my wife Diana and I lived in Colorado. My parents and most of my siblings also lived there - not too far from each other and everyone else. Earlier in the year my oldest sister and her husband had their first baby, they named him Quinton. A few weeks later Diana and I welcomed our first child into the world and named him Clark.
Grandma died in the summer, so Clark and his cousin Quinton were about half of a year old. 2001 was a strange year. My brother was on his mission, my sister Lysa almost died from ARDS, Diana and I were brand new parents and had no clue what we were doing - at least I didn't/don't. Grandma's death was the first of a close relative for me to experience. It was a strange feeling. I was sad and wasn't quite sure what to expect at a family funeral.
My Dad has a very generous nature and heart. Mom went to Eagar early and Dad offered to drive my family, Beth and Quinton, and Meri to the funeral and back again. He even got us hotel rooms.
It would seem that my Dad has always had a van or large vehicle to drag all of his kids and stuff around in. My memory begins with The Lead Bullet. A gray station wagon that had a rear bench that, when you would sit in it you would see out the back window. I can remember making funny faces to people behind us. Then came the DTV, or more eloquently, The Damn Tan Van. The DTV would take us sailing, road tripping and to Pauls Place for hot dogs - always with my Dad at the wheel. After the DTV was killed, there were a few minivans, but I honestly think Dad's love for big vans resurfaced and along came the Big Green Van. The Big Green Van has many nicknames - The Rig, The Muscle Van, The Mystery Machine and Papa Tom's Big Green Van. It was this van that my Dad loaded me, Diana, Clark, Beth, Quinton, and Meri into so we could all go to Eagar for Grandma's funeral.
The trip was going very well. I don't really remember either of the babies having too much of a problem. West of Albuquerque on I-40, there is a turn off to go south and catch Highway 60 to Eagar. This is the road to Quemado. After we turned off the main interstate, Dad explained where we were going. We were going to go through El Malpais national monument and end up in Quemado. Dad explained further that El Malpais is an old lava field and that Quemado in Spanish actually means "burnt". Looking back on it now, the beginning of the road to Quemado is a bit like the uphill clanky climb of the first hill of a roller coaster.
Feel free to click and drag this map, zoom in and out to get a good feel of the terrain.
Sure enough it was a lava field. Full of sharp black rock formations to our right, and to our left were cliff walls. The geography forced an atmosphere of tension, leaving you no real choice but to forge ahead forward. That might sound easy, but forward meant a twisty turny up and down road. So there we were Meri, Beth, Quinton and Clark in their car seats, Diana, me, and Dad at the wheel - and the gas peddle.
The speed of the van seemed to be increasing and every bump and curve would bounce us around. The cliff walls to the left begged us to run into them, the sharp black lava rock formations directly on our right dared us to join them. It was exhilarating and scary at the same time. I specifically remember looking around at Beth and Diana and our faces all said the same thing - we thought we were going to go off the road.
My Dad had obviously been down this road before and, in his usual style, enjoyed the scenery by looking out windows other than the windshield. Perhaps memories were relived as he recognized this environment, but for us, we just wanted to be able to have a memory of our first time on the road to Quemado.
I have to give my Dad credit though. At one time on a previous road trip Lysa yelled at him for not paying attention to the road. He responded by stating that he has never crashed us, or something like that. So I knew the answer we would get if any of us questioned his driving. And to his credit - I dont know of a time when Dad was involved in an accident. Maybe he honed his mad skills as a bus driver when he was younger, or maybe there is a past that we dont yet know about, either way he has always delivered us safely at our destinations.
We made it past the cliff walls without leaving any green paint on them and the sharp black lava field began to retreat and pull further away from the road. The sharp turns and bumps were not through with us yet. The silent tension and concern within the van lingered and increased with every swerve and curve. Another glance around the van would reveal Beth desperately trying to breast pump and Diana between both car seats bottle feeding the babies or something like that, all while the tires of the Big Green Van worked to keep us on the road and moving forward.
Finally we reached highway 60. We had made it. Nobody was hurt. Shaken, maybe. We were shortly in Eagar meeting with family and honoring Grandma.
To me, this story illustrates much of my Father. He has always gotten us where we were going safely. He has always been willing to pack us all into his van of generosity - driving us through the El Malpais times of life. He has shown me that moving forward, even in scary situations is possible. He has previously been down roads that I may be taking for the first time and he is willing to guide me along with stories, advice, instruction, perspective, encouragement, and love.
Dad has done so much for me. He has taught me so much. Most of all I know that he will always be my Dad and that he will be there for me as long as he possibly can. He has always had my best interest in mind, even when I thought the contrary.
I love you Dad, Happy Fathers Day.
Some random things I love / remember about my Dad.
Dad jokes are genetic. Don't fight it, embrace it!
As kids he would take us to the arcade so mom wouldn't kill us.
I have very fond memories of Dad taking us to the movies - I even made an art piece dedicated to that memory as a project in college.
He is an original computer nerd
The only things he really pushed me to do was to cut my hair, come home on time, go to class in high school, and to not do stupid things.
yard work. enough said.
Dad plays excellent guitar. He is an excellent singer. He would sing to us and play the guitar - it is a real treat when he does that!
Speaking of treats, churros anyone? How about pudding and ice cream?
He and I repaired and worked on the cars often, even in the freezing of winter.
He included me in building the deck. That was a transitional experience for me out of childhood. It was great.
Dad always has his trusty cup. Sometimes he may even ask you to grab him a Pepsi and ice.
Dad sports one of the best mustaches. He tried a beard for a while, but the stache will stay forever
He tried teaching me how to sail the boat. I dont think I remember how to do it though.
He and I had a spectacular boat crash when the catamaran cart wheeled and cata-pulted us off.
There are so many other fond / less fond memories but I am going to wrap this up. If any of my siblings have more to add, which I sure you do, feel free to add them in the comments section.
