For most of my life, the first day of spring meant a fresh start, flowers blooming, trees turning green. We would put the winter clothes away and get out spring clothes. In our house that usually meant Mother had made us a couple of new dresses. We'd get a new pair of shoes at the shoe store on the Snyder square. I'd be practicing for a recital. When I moved to Georgia, I looked forward to the azaleas blooming and the dogwood blossoms, the warm weather and the mild breeze.
As I've grown older though, it means something else. I lost my dad March 21, 2000. Now it is a time of memories of my dad, the man I called "Daddy" till the day he died. There's not one word to sum up his life as he was many things to many people over the nearly 90 years of his life. He was a Commander in the Navy with a long military career, including World War II in Africa and Korean War stationed at Great Lakes, near Chicago, Illinois. He devoted many a service hour to the Kiwanis and other service organization such as Band Parents. Daddy was quite a Republican, evan as far back as when he went to the Republican Convention when Eisenhower/Nixon were the candidates. I believe I was eight years old and he brought home an elephant scatter pen for me to wear.
Most notably, I remember daddy for the meals he cooked and the fresh vegetables and roses from his garden. We always had garden fresh tomatoes and homemade chili. He did do a little baking even, back in the day when they had the angel food cake with various colored candies in it. I think that was the only kind of cake he ever made. Nobody made better peanut brittle or popcorn.
Daddy always believed in me, was the eternal optimist. He was the kind of dad who helped me with projects but let me think I'd done the whole thing by myself. The most fun was when we had our own pretend radio show in our living room where he recorded us on the reel to reel from his office at the Navy Base to record me playing my favorite piano pieces and my sister singing. He always got a couple hours practice out of me for that show. Needless to say, my greatest ambition as a child was to play the piano for the solldiers someday which I never did. but it kept me practicing in a time when I was surrounded by military as we lived on the military base. On Saturdays we went to the base to watch the new recruits graduate and do all their drills. It was quite a bit of pomp and circumstance. Deep down, I knew they were going to fight in the Korean War, but I lived in the moment and enjoyed the marching and the music of the bands.
It is odd that about a year before he died I dreamed that Daddy had died and my mother who had been dead since 1970 was the one to tell me he had died. She then said, but he left you a beautiful garden. I guess maybe the beautiful garden is the first day of spring every year to remember the joy my dad brought to my life for 57 years. My son and I returned to my house that spring from his funeral in West Texas, and my yard literally looked like one huge flower garden. Every single thing was in full bloom.
I think we always remember our loved ones with something--maybe it's a sunset, a butterfly, a particular bird, a season, the smell of a certain food cooking. They may be gone, but our five senses never forget them.
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