67

Sometimes our shower doesn't drain the way it should. If Maryn and Avery take back-to-back showers, the water occasionally rises up to their ankles instead of running easily down the drain like it's supposed to. Having three women with long, luxurious hair in house results in a clog every now and then. (Especially Maryn's hair, I think. That stuff is so thick and strong, they could tile the Space Shuttle with it.)

Anyway, the girls showered tonight and it happened again. The water seemed exceptionally high too. My first instinct when this happens is to buy some Drano, pour it down there, and wait for it to do its caustic work. But Dad was never a fan of liquid drain cleaners. Didn't think they worked well and thought they were harder on the pipes. I mentioned the drain issue to him once when we were on the phone way back when and he told me to just plunge it the way I would a toilet. It would be just as likely as Drano to clear the pipe but less likely to do any damage.

Dad had all sorts of little opinions like that about what worked and what didn't, what was worth the time and effort and what wasn't. He was right about a lot of things, of course. Most of the time. He wasn't perfect and I do have to admit I felt satisfaction those times when my idea worked better than his. (I remember those times -- all two of them.)

Dad was quirky and funny about certain things. He hated the sound of someone chewing on ice and didn't like the feel of velvet. He liked chili from Wendy's and Whoppers from Burger King more than just about anything else. He drank diet Mountain Dew like it was water and really liked the salty, bright yellow popcorn you could get at the Fort Hall Trading Post. (Hmm. Chili, Whoppers, Mountain Dew, and popcorn. I wonder why he had a heart attack.)

Several years ago, the engine in my Escort went out. I was driving home from work and suddenly the engine started making a sound like a bunch of banditos were shooting up the place. I pulled over, called a friend who was a mechanic, and he explained to me how Escorts of that era had a flaw that allowed a piece of metal to drop down into the something-or-other and ricochet around inside the engine. It was shot.

I was in Detroit, on my own, and basically helpless. I called Dad for his opinion. What did he end up doing? Buying a used but functioning engine from one of his many contacts, driving it and a bunch of tools 1700 miles to Detroit, replacing it in Paul Day's garage in two days, and then driving 1700 miles back to Idaho.

For lunch on the first day, I drove to the nearest fast food place, Arby's, and bought a couple of roast beef sandwiches, fries, and drinks for each of us. Dad gamely ate his food and didn't say much but the next day when I was about to get us lunch, he said, "Find a Burger King this time. Don't bring back any more girl food." I still smirk every time I eat at an Arby's because I know I'm eating girl food.

Anyway, tonight I took the plunger to the bathtub and, in a minute or so, it was draining like a champ. It's such a small thing but it's one of the many things I'm grateful for when it comes to my dad. I've come to know him even more recently than I did when he was alive and the more I know, the more I realize he was an exceptional person -- not just because of what he could fix or the lengths he went to in order to serve others, but for his heart, his capacity for forgiveness, and his great love for his family. His heart may have physically failed him in the end, but it never failed him life. It was mighty.

Dad would have turned 67 today. Had he lived, I would have called him, wished him happy birthday, and he would have grunted his thanks and told me the nice things everyone got him. Dave and Dan probably would have taken him and Mom out to Jud's or Golden Corral. Dad would have paid. Dad would ask if everything is running at our house, if the cars were still going. He would ask if Parker had done anything funny lately. I'd tell him she's saying "ball" and "baby" and "bottle" and that she loves to play and growl and chase. He would have laughed and called her a cute little bugger. He would have ended the conversation by saying something like, "Well, that's all I have, unless you have something you wanna talk about."

I love you, Dad. I really miss you. Happy birthday.