One of the reasons I started this blog was to have a record of what the girls have been doing, and I'm sucking at that. I mean, they learned to ski, for crying out loud! I could have written volumes about that, especially because it was my parents who really taught them. It just seems weird to write about it now that it's pretty much summer time.
|Love the shirt. Hate selfies.|
Also, this story pretty much covers a) my birthday, which was on May 30, b) Mother's Day (because this shows how awesome my mom is) and c) Father's Day, because it's partly a story about my dad and there's a picture of the two of us, and d) our cabin in Montana, where I'm taking the girls next month, and knowing my track record of late, I probably will neglect to share that here.
Hi, Andy -Your comment about your cool birthday shirt made me think about your 3rd birthday. Do you remember it?We lived in Missoula, and your Dad was in Viet Nam. I had discovered and bought the Flathead lake property early that spring. We were excited about spending some time there, and I bought a little camper trailer. I got a trailer hitch for the ‘66 GTO coupe (triple deuce, I’m told), hooked up the camper, and took off for the cabin site with you, your sisters, and Granny Goose. At that time, I didn’t even KNOW that I didn’t know how to back up a trailer! So we drove over the hilly, narrow dirt road and found a flat place at the top of our new property. We played around the shore, explored the mountainside and finally had a birthday cake in our new camper, talking about spending the night in it for the first time. Your present was a blue shirt, which you loved. You called it your birthday shirt.May 30 was really a time to celebrate! It was your birthday and your Dad was due to come home the next evening after a year (his second tour) in Viet Nam. We were having a great party, as we always did with Granny Goose. Then I started thinking about what time I needed to leave the lake the next day to get to the Missoula airport in time to meet the plane from San Francisco. Suddenly I remembered that we were dealing with the international dateline. Dad was coming home, not tomorrow, but TONIGHT. Needless to say, we abandoned camp and hurried home.Well, I got to the airport and met my returning hero. Drove him home to the Dickinson house, and after lots of hugs and catching up with a year’s worth of kid stories, what he really wanted was a shower. After all, he had been traveling for more than 24 hours. He always has to add to this story that the shower backed up on him and he had to start out his post-war life with a plumbing problem.
|Dad and me at the lake, shortly after my 3rd birthday|
Here's the most recent thing I wrote for The Daily Beast. It's Father's Day related.