Father's Day -- Epiphanies

I was watching TV, if you can call a long ad for 60s music TV, late last night with Rosie and one of the songs triggered a well-timed Dad memory that I instantly thought would be great for Kendra's book for Everett.
It happened when James Dean sang one of his famous story ballads 'Big Bad John' and I figured it should be shared. It was another one of those moments Dad probably didn't even realize he was leaving an indelible impression on one of his kids.
It was at a church basketball game (you know this has to get good :)) and as always I was tagging along because I just knew if they came up short they would ask me to play with them even though I was only 10 or 11 at the time. I was sitting on the bench next to Gary Palmer and they were at our end of the court when a shot went up. I guess dad was one of the taller guys on the team at 6' 2" and he and someone from the other team went up for the rebound. All I remember of the next few moments was that it got pretty physical (I don't think that they actually got in a fight) and Dad came away with the ball that he then powered back up with a shot under the basket. It happened quickly and probably wouldn't have been a huge moment had it not been for Gary singing "BIG BAD JOHN" as he was going up for a the shot and getting hammered by the guy he took the ball from as well as another guy.
It was one of those moments for me when I realized something about my Dad that I guess I kind of knew but when this happened I remember thinking, "My Dad is really really cool!"

Then there was the time while he was the time while he was serving as a counselor on the 3rd Ward Bishopric with Bishop Mike O'Loughlin at a MIA activity. Dad was dressed up with a curtain in front of him and shoes on his hands with Mom behind him acting out with his hands and shoving loads of food into his mouth. He kept telling her to wait and the more he tried to keep her from loading more in, the more she tried to put in. Everyone was laughing as the hilarity continued to unfold and April Mleynek made the comment, "He's such a great sport." I remember at the time thinking that it was something for me to learn from because I didn't like to be laughed at and would never put myself in a position for such ridicule. From then on I decided that I would allow myself to be a little more vulnerable.

The last story I thought of while thinking of Dad was another MIA activity (He was very good about magnifying his callings). There was a competition where people were divided into teams and one person had to run to the other end of the Cultural Hall, Stand a bat up on end, put there forehead on the handle end, spin around several times, and then run back to the other end and tag the next person. Then they would run up and do the same until the last person was done. Dad was on my team and I was thinking our chances for winning this thing was probably really good. I was behind him with one person between us and he took off down the court like a banshee and made the spins before anyone else. Then it got a bit hairy (try running after spinning in circles with your head on a bat). He started on his way back and started leaning to his right. I knew instantly that this was not going to go well. The more he tried to run and catch himself the more he leaned. He went crashing down in a heap and slid head first in the cabinets under the stage where the tables and chairs were kept.
Needles to say it scared the crap out of me and I didn't care about winning anymore. To everyone else it was understandably hilarious, but I found no humor in it. At that exact moment I realized just how much I loved and worshipped my Dad and seeing him out of control, even for a stupid kids game, was not a good moment for me. Not that we always had the best of moments since I at the time was an all-knowing teenager, but my Dad was, well, DAD. The greatest human being on earth. He ended up getting his composure well enough to get back to tag the next person and the entire time he too was laughing. I don't remember the outcome of the race or even fulfilling my leg of the race, but that moment was left a clear mark on my memory of MY DAD.

I love and miss him. I miss not being able to ask him questions or calling him to tell him what new thing I've learned. Even after 2 years my heart aches a little. Oh the reunion though when we meet again! I look forward to that moment and that joy fills the ache every time!