Today is my dad's 69th birthday. His name is Art, but he's also known as Artie, Artie-baby and Daddio.
He's mostly a quiet kind of guy, prone to losing whole afternoons immersed in a book (usually something about history - he went through a whole Civil War phase a couple years ago).
He instilled in us (my sister and 2 brothers) a love of Indiana basketball, the White Sox at old Comiskey Park, board games of all kinds (he always wins at Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit) and Texas Hold 'Em.
He was born in 1940 on his parent's farm in a tiny little town called Hebron in northwest Indiana. At that time they didn't have indoor plumbing. My siblings and I found that unbelievable! The youngest of 6, he remembers life on the farm as tough. His dad was a German immigrant who was very strict and uncompromising on chores and homework.
He's still friends with someone he's known from childhood, my Aunt Jackie (not really an aunt, but that's what we've always called her.)
He and my mom divorced when we were quite young, but he's always stayed involved in our lives. He credits this to our wonderful stepmom, Carol. They've been married more than 30 years now. We spent every weekend with them going to Chicago's Brookfield Zoo, Museum of Science and Industry, or just out to my grandparent's farm to enjoy time with all the cousins and eat a great meal, most of which was picked from the garden that day.
I attribute my love of reading to his genes, as well as my awesome sense of direction and ability to hold my liquor :) Unfortunately I DID NOT inherit a proficiency at the grill. He can cook just about anything on the Weber. My personal favorite is his turkey.
While his hair is now white, when I think of my dad I always see him circa 1971: long brown hair, sideburns and a moustache that tended toward red, wearing jeans and a Harvey Wallbanger t-shirt. Its always a bit of a surprise when I see him since we've gotten older. I know that sounds funny, I see him quite a bit, I certainly know he's in his 60's and has white hair, I just don't think of him that way. Of course he probably gets quite a shock when he sees me too, picturing in his mind's eye a freckled little girl with pigtails and crooked teeth and instead seeing a "pleasantly" plump fortysomething with a granddaughter of her own!
Time goes by so quickly as we get older, I remember my elders telling me when I was a kid. Boy is that ever true! But my dad isn't too old to mow his own yard, play with his grandchildren or even go swimming in the lake (which he just did this summer). So....
Here's to you, Artie-Baby, Happy Birthday!
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