Zolli Dad

There are two people I tend NOT to blog about here, Jesus and my dad, and for roughly the same reasons. 1, my feelings for both are just too big to put into words, and 2, I don’t want to inadvertently tick them off and get sent to my room. Or hell.

But since today is my dad’s birthday – I’m giving it a shot.

What a looker! I have his nose. I used to swear Buck Owens and my daddy were one and the same. I can tell the difference NOW; my dad is way better looking. Well, technically Buck IS dead, but even back in his heyday my dad had him beat. My dad is handsome.

When I was little, I thought he could do ANYTHING. I still do. He can build a house from the ground up, repair large machinery, grow a garden, pretty much everything. He once fixed JD’s car. Over the phone. My dad is smart.

Growing up around my dad was great. He used to pack up the whole family, half the neighborhood kids, several relatives and a few of his friends, and take us all to the lake for camping and skiing.  Oh MAN, was it awesome! I would love to go back in time to this very moment on Dale Hollow Lake and just sit and watch my dad and the men in the family. I have no idea where the women were. Probably hiding. My dad is fun.

This is how my dad taught me to ski. He would come out of the water carrying me, then I’d slide down until I was standing on the ski’s in front of him.  This is him teaching his 5 year old grandson, Matthan. Dad’s 47 years old in this picture. My dad is strong.

Dad’s best friend was Johnny Van. He was sick for a long time and died several years ago. They were so close that the family asked him if, instead of being a pall bearer, he wanted to sit with the family. He said no, that it was a honor to carry him. I watched my dad, this very masculine builder, lean down and kiss his friend on the forehead before they closed the casket. My dad is good.

Getting my dad to stop and smell the roses has been difficult. Even after a long day of building, he’ll still come home and find something to do. The only thing that’s able to slow him down is the grandkids; he always manages to find time for them. When I told Rachel I was writing a blog about Pa, she said “Say he is sweet and nice.” My dad is sweet and nice.

See, I told you I have his nose!  I once said (and I know it sounds kind of morbid) that I would never marry as long as my dad was alive.  I just couldn’t imagine letting go of him to go and “cleave” to someone else. On my wedding day a few years later, I was STILL having trouble with the idea. He set a pretty high bar. My dad is loved.

They say a person views God based on how their father treated them. I usually picture Him as loving, kind, a fair disciplinarian, worthy of respect, loyal and fun. And slightly sarcastic. I don’t think I’m too far off the mark.

Happy Birthday, Dad.  I love you!