HAPPY 89th BIRTHDAY, PA

By Danna Shirley

You have given me some wonderful memories of my childhood and beyond. I recall when I was a little girl and was riding down the Buena Vista hill on my bike. A car came around the corner toward me and I went off the road to avoid being hit. I skinned myself up and you doctored me.

Then of course there were the many Saturdays that I was your helper as you continued the never-ending construction on the house; from changing out the louvered windows in the front bedrooms and the living room, to adding the den and brick fireplace off of the kitchen, to adding the master bath so we weren’t a one-bathroom family anymore. I suspect you planned that so you could have some private bathroom time away from your four females. J

I loved it when you had to work on the roof because I got to climb the ladder and look out over the water toward the hacienda. The hacienda always fascinated me . . . but I never even drove up there to get a closer look. Maybe that’s what kept the uniqueness of it so special.

On one of those trips up the ladder you found my leather jacks bag that I had thrown up there. Why, I don’t remember! It was faded on one side and still colorfully bright on the other. I still have it . . . and the original ball and jacks, too.

Then came the teen years and my driver’s permit. My first experience behind the wheel was in a large empty parking lot. After just a few turns around the course, you put me on the freeway. I was scared to death. I couldn’t believe you would let me loose that quickly in California traffic.

When you finally let me drive to my own orthodontic appointment, I was afraid to change lanes. I wasn’t secure enough to turn around and look, as you had taught me, nor did I feel safe enough to take my eyes of the road to use my mirrors.

Your favorite greeting after one of these appointments was, “Let me see what they did to your teeth today.” I would give you a big smile and then you would say, “That’s the first time I ever saw teeth in a horse’s arse.” J  I fell for it every time. Now, at 61, you still try to catch me but I think I’ve gotten smarter to know what you’re up to . . . I hope!

Shortly afterward came my first accident, the infamous dent down the side of the Monza from the front bumper to the back. Of course I was where you told me not to go, doing what you told me not to do. I cried and cried all the way home and was more upset than you were. Why? Because I had disappointed my father and I didn’t ever want to do that again.

My first job came after high school graduation. I worked for the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) near the UC Berkeley campus. It took a while for me to save enough money to buy a car so you drove me to work every morning before you went to work at Dymo in Emeryville. Then you would brave the University traffic to pick me up every afternoon. You put your work hours on hold to get me to my job on time.

Ah, my first car—a 1957 Chevy BelAir two-door, hardtop. You found it for me, checked under the hood, kicked the tires, and it passed inspection. It was a beauty! Unfortunately, by the time I sold it, the back seat and lighter had been stolen while it sat in a church parking lot. Green primer paint was on one door panel because someone had hit me while it was parked.

Then came my elopement to Ron in 1968. It was December and we drop over Donner Pass and into Reno, Nevada. Wow, what an experience. I know I let Mom down by being the third daughter to go to Reno and not let her give me a wedding as I had promised. I think you were relieved, though—there were no months of planning or having to dress up in fancy clothes. It was short and sweet. Two months later, however, you had to work on Mom’s “Honey-Do” list to get the house ready for our wedding reception.

One year later Ron got new orders that took me from my home and family to begin a thirty-four year trek all over the world.

In 1980 you stopped in Alabama on your way to Georgia hoping to see my expected third child (Aaron) but he was stubborn and did not cooperate. You called on your return trip home to see if there was any reason to stop back by—but to no avail. You missed seeing him until much later.

In all of my travels I learned one thing—home is wherever I am with my loved ones. You taught me that. You loved me unconditionally—through all the disappointments, car accidents, and even my five-month separation from Ron. You never judged, never criticized, never told me what to do, but your wisdom was invaluable and I will always appreciate your advice.

Now you’ve reached your 89^th year. How awesome!!! You’ve had a wonderful life and you’ve blessed so many others with your love and generosity. It’s been my privilege to share you not only with those you know but with those you’ve never met, for I have told my many friends in all of my travels about my wonderful father . . . and they are j-e-a-l-o-u-s!!! J

MAY GOD’S MANY BLESSINGS BE YOURS

ON THIS SPECIAL DAY!

 I Love You So Much, PA --