Born in the Land of the Wooden Shoes

It came to pass one day while I was napping, I had a dream of Daddy and I, on beautiful summer evening, lollygagging in the back yard as the sun set low, as we so often did.

Daddy usually had a phone growing out of his ear, touching base with his customers, keeping them up to date on what he had done and discussing what the plans were going forward.

In his hand there often was a long cool glass, full to the brim with ice cubes and his favorite thirst-quencher.  I would chase squirrels and our cats, mindful to keep on eye on the progress of his drink, because when he was finished he would pour the ice cubes in a shiny metal dog dish for me. I would pick them up, throw them in the air and leap to catch them.  Every night Daddy would laugh at my show as if he had never seen it before.  You know clowns, we live for the applause!

I have told you lots of tales, Ruby, some true, some questionable, but you haven’t really got to know the Daddy I loved and lost. It was a total shock to me – here one minute, pfff…gone the next.  Oh, there are lots of things even a super smart earth dog like me, can not comprehend.

Daddy was, well, like me, fired up and in your face.  It could have been because he was a Scorpio, or his diabetes, or his high blood pressure, or a combination of all of the above, but just like you can’t miss a tornado passing through, you couldn’t miss his Type A personality.

Born across the pond, in the-land-of-the-wooden-shoes and (nowadays), Anything Goes  (and grows)  Holland, he quickly adjusted to the Land of the True North Strong and Free.

However, let it be known, he came from the Christian Reform Bible Belt which coloured his world, making him dogmatic and somewhat stubborn. Over the years that do-or-die attitude helped him survive many slippery slopes, dealt along the way.  However, God also gave him a well-developed sense of humor to go along with his Kaw Liga head, which appeared sometimes to be as wooden as his klompen (wooden shoes).

At some point, with his health being compromised, Daddy made an Executive Decision (approved by the Board, Momma and Wonder Boy) to leave behind his Head Office Management position and go back to his roots.  In his youth he had worked with his father who had his own Dutch Gardening Business.

I know Daddy always considered his son, Wonder Boy, his greatest feat.  In return, the best compliment Wonder Boy could serve his father, was to love gardening as much as his father and Opa (paternal grandfather) did, slaving with Daddy, sun up to sun down, on hot and humid summer days, contributing his perspective on ‘how to’ from quoting, to grass cutting, to overall business smarts.  They shared the typical father / son relationship – so much alike yet so much different.

Momma still remembers her favourite quote from Daddy who very succinctly told her one day in passing, ‘Ya know when I die people will say, he loved gardening.  But let’s get the story straight.  I hate to burst their bubble, but I want put on my gravestone – I Did It for the Money.’ 

So sorry, RIP Daddy, but Momma did not put that on your gravestone.  Apparently her sense of decorum and humor is related to her stiff upper lip British Ancestry.  No, it would not be the done thing. Oh and I have met your family and well, they wouldn’t be amused either.

Sometimes when I miss my RIP Daddy, I look at my Momma and like the old song, I try to communicate, ‘How far is Heaven? When can we go? I want my Daddy to hold me tight.’

Momma looks at me and I swear she says, ‘AAAmen! AAAmen, Amen, Amen!’ Get me a dictionary!  What does that mean, even?