Joseph Dale

Joseph Dale

Joe is the Italian stallion bum that married my baby girl.  No, of course he wasn’t good enough for Angela, but who would have?  They’ve been married for almost 7 years, and I’m just now starting to speak to him!  A very belated Happy 35th Birthday Joe!

I’m so late on his birthday blog that he actually thought he was going to escape it . . .

Joe has been a devoted and faithful husband, father, and provider.  He is caring, and is proving to be a great ‘daughter’ Daddy, which is a designation saved for only the best of us that raise ‘just daughters’.

Joe is full blooded Italian, and though his childhood pictures show him to be blond, he’s about as black-headed now as you can get; a trait passed along to his oldest daughter Ava.  Though Ava’s Mom Angela is dark-headed too; there wasn’t much of a chance that Ava would be fair-haired.

Joe taught me the love of a grilled boned-in Rib eye ~ which is now without question my all-time favorite steak.  I was first introduced to this culinary delight last July while on vacation, and was then immediately christened with the moniker of Boned Rib, by my ribbed brother, the original Rib eye Joe.  He may or may not be a dead-eye, but there is no doubt he is a Rib eye.

Another food treasure that we share the love for is his Grandma Franco’s Italian meat sauce.  Wow, that is the best meat sauce recipe ever made.  Bottle it, sell it; you’ll be a very wealthy man.

Joe is a ‘gamer’ in a different sense of the word from computer games.  Joe is well, let’s say, fanatical about football, bonkers for basketball, ga-ga for golf, bemused by baseball, hot for hockey, addicted to softball, salivating for volleyball, zealous for swimming, dedicated to badminton,  fixated by bowling, passionate about tennis, fervent for horseshoes, enthusiastic for darts, and keen for kayaking.  If it’s televised, he’s got it on DVR, or watching it live.  He’s got all 47 channels of ESPN, and the 114 other sport channels are categorized 1-114.  I knew Joe was a little over the edge when he was Facebooking about the score from the Davenport Iowa 4^th grade regional finals boys judo championship.  I’ll bet that match sure shot up the overnight Arbitron ratings for ESPN38!

Joe is a military man.  I actually can’t tell you how exactly, other than I know he is associated with the Air Force, and he is also a member of the Air Force National Guard.  It’s not that his occupation is secretive, it is just that I don’t understand it enough to write about it.  I know he travels frequently throughout the year, and though he is not routinely on patrol when he is in the middle-east, he still has work to do in those hot zones.  And yes, he is going to be deployed to Afghanistan for 6 months later this year.  Our love and prayers are with you Joe; and by God’s grace, may He build and sustain His hedge of protection around you.

Happy Birthday Joe, I love you.

Jacqueline Renee

My Boogie is 33 today!  I still vividly recall the lunacy of my early ‘father of the year’ days.  It started by driving from Tulsa to Bartlesville in the literal middle of the night, in our TransAm, at speeds of 110 to 130 mph; the speedometer was rarely under triple digits.  That is not an exaggeration.  Running red lights, running stop signs, jumping road blocks; nothing was going to stop me.  I thought Pam was going to give birth to Jackie any second, and at age 20 & 21, we were too young and stupid to think about going to a Tulsa hospital!  Her Dr. was in Bartlesville, so that is where we thought we had to go.  The thought never occurred to me that had I wrecked, there would be at least 3 deaths (hoping who I hit would have survived too), instead of 1 birth . . .

Now, these were also the days when car seats were not around.  Yes, hard to believe, but absolutely true.  Jackie was carried in a little baby carrier everywhere we went, not seat belted in, and on 100’s+ occasions, as Jackie grew, she would sit perched on the arm rest of our TransAm(s) peering out from every direction.  And that was if she was not sitting in my lap helping me drive.  God’s grace kept us from ever wrecking, but what a tragedy that would have been.

Not to outdo my early stupidity, but Jackie also used to sit between my legs, and tool around the mobile home park on my motorcycle with me; sans helmet!  I don’t know why I am admitting to this foolishness; maybe because most everyone already knew about it.  Looking back though, I sincerely cannot believe what an imbecile I was.  Parents like that today would be locked up.

But now, my precious daughter has 2 little sons of her own; and I am uber cautious with them whenever they are traveling with Pappy.  Yes, WP loves to feel the power and torque of the Corvette rocketing through space ~ but we don’t really do that.  He has ridden with me a few times in the ‘go fast’ car, but to him, go fast doesn’t take much effort to impress him, as he is used to the feeling of his Mom’s big Buick SUV lumbering down the highway.  Shoot, I could ‘punch it’ in Nini’s Lexus, and he’d think he was in a speeding bullet by comparison.

Jackie’s teen years were my favorite years; as they are filled with memories from the joys of Aerospace America air shows, 6 Flags roller coasters, beaches, gymnastics, cheerleading, cheerleading shoes, outfits, camps, and routines rehearsed-rehearsed-rehearsed.

During her teen years, we also enjoyed Andrea being our 3^rd daughter, late night Mazzio pizza buffets after all the football and basketball games, playing basketball with the CCS gang at our home, spelling words drilled and repeated, drilled and repeated, math problems, algebra problems, boy problems, young punk problems, dirty scum not fit to speak to my daughter problems, constant busy signals on the phone, Tetris, trivial pursuit, monopoly, and step counting. J

Oh how many times did the CCS boys think they were going to take the old-man to school, and yet they were the ones leaving the driveway court that night shaking their heads from getting schooled on head-fakes, dunks, and me making 3-pointers from the 4-pointer lines.  Yes, that was fun.  I couldn’t do it now, but it sure was great to do it to them 15 years ago!

Jackie’s cheerleading efforts netted her All-American status during her Sr. year, and her scholastic skills netted her a MidFirst partial scholarship, as is it did also with a partial OBU scholarship; to which we were very proud of. 

The ‘herky’ was one of my favorite jumps, but Jackie’s best was her toe-touch.  Holy cow!, could that girl jump and do a ‘better than a textbook’ toe-touch.  I still also recall the many 100’s, perhaps 1,000’s of inverted sit ups that she would do while having her legs anchored around my waist to give her the support she needed.  It was embarrassing how many of those she used to be able to knock out ~ nearly breathlessly . . .

My boogie was/is a snuggler.  I loved the memories from all the early childhood years that we’d lay in bed reading, talking, or just snuggling till she fell asleep, and she never fell asleep easily.  It was boogie’s owie hour, or mama, “please pray for ________, he’s not very smart.”

Jackie was an early walker (7 months old, like her Mom), she was an early talker (full conversations by 2 years old, just like her Mom), she was a social butterfly (like her Mom), but, she loved math (like me), loves to read (like me), and most importantly; completely enjoys roller coasters (like me). 

She previously loved to be tickled (as does now her son O’Mike), and she loved to be thrown up into the air as a young child as often as my arms would allow.  She had no idea what ‘one more time’ really meant.

Jackie was born bald.  Our bald-eagle.  Nary a hair until she was 3, just like her Mom, and now it is all blond, just like her Mom too.  She was so super skinny that she was called stick-people legs.  Jackie’s got the Fournier peanut-head, but she is a splitting image of her Mom, often referred to at times as Mom’s mini-me.  It is astonishing to see pictures of Jackie now, and compare to what Nini used to look like.  It is spooky the resemblance.  Even today, there is no mistaking it.  But of course, because Nini is so attractive, she is often thought to be Jackie’s older sister, and not her Mom . . . J 

Jackie is my ram-rod, my ram-jack, my go-go-gackie; my type A driver.  She is focused, intense, direct; and all in a good way.  She is raising my two grandsons in the only way she should, and that is with the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

Jackie was/is a tirelessly hard worker.  I cannot remember how many times was she out in the yard with me over the years for 6-10 hours a day helping me do weekend yard work, sweep, edge, push the mower, dissolve the miracle-gro, pull the weeds, empty the yard bags, rake, mulch; whatever it took, she was right there by my side.  She would never quit early.  If I was working, she was too.  It still shows today in her work ethic at home. 

She’s my new words-with-friends gamer, and proves to be a consistent and formidable challenge; I still wish I could layer words the way she does. 

Jackie loves to cook from a box or a bag, and rarely does she stray from that formula.  The few times that she has though, we’ve all ‘cheered her on’ to just stick with the box and bag versions.  Go-go-gackie, you can do it, yes you can, take that shovel, take that pan, bake that flour, yes you can, Gooooooo Jackie!  (She could use a few more cooking lessons though; as that’s about the only thing she could improve on!) 

I love you Jacqueline Renee!  Happy 33^rd Birthday. - Dad

Ava: Making Memories

This is my Ava Corinne, my first grand daughter.  Ava had prepared herself for our time together days earlier; coordinating her outfit, her make up, her cowgirl hat, her earrings, her boots ~ the complete ensem, just for me, her Pappy. 

It was such a sweet and precious gesture, and I love that she loves to do it.  I'm telling you what, this picture does not do justice to how much she rocked this outfit; wow, she looked amazing.  Those boots with the multiple straps just below her knee, with those killer black tights, perfect black hair, and the Ciara cologne (my favorite), and her special side-saddle single braid she'd had her hair done with was a perfect way to top off 'her look.'

Our first stop of the day was QT.  Don't need to ask Ava twice!  Once for that matter, she tells me right away she wants a donut!  I get her the chocolate covered one with red stripes that she asks for, and I pick up a chicken biscuit sandwich to enjoy with my DDP (it tastes more like real DP).  I calmly take a bite of my sandwich, chew, peruse the headlines of the USA today, swallow, and look up at Ava.  In the time it took for me to do this (<1 minute, remember, it was my 1st bite), Ava had inhaled her donut, and had made friends with 2 other customers that were complimenting her on her hat, and on her earrings!  By the time I'd finished my sandwich, 4 customers had told me how cute or pretty she was, and that my daughter was adorable.  I couldn't agree more.

We then journeyed across the street to Lowe's, and Ava assisted with the selection of Basil and Heather to be planted at home.  She was a whiz at bagging in the self-checkout lane, and we briskly began walking to our car . . . only to be interrupted by the white-trash-sperm-donor-of-the-day moment.  This idiot was cussing out his 3 year son, whom was in tears.  I summoned every ounce of reserve not to go pistol-whip this white-trash piece of dog excrement.  And had Ava not been with me, I most certainly would have had a come to Jesus face-to-face with this 140 lb. sorry example of human breeding.  Man, if you didn't want the child; you should have placed him up for adoption. But, you're so stupid you probably don't even know what adoption is.  Ava was thankfully distracted by carrying the bag of basil, and I don't think her ears had to hear what this punk's son had to hear . . . tragic.

Back to the fun . . .

We pointed our car towards Target and as Ava bolted through the doors, her smile and her words were indelibly tattooed in my brain "this way Pappy, I know right where the jewelry is!"  And indeed she did.  For the better part of an hour, we tried on a plethora of head bands, rings, bracelets, charms, beads, necklaces, hair bows, scarves, shoes, purses, etc.  Wow, "what a girl wants, what a girl needs".  Today was going to be 180 degrees different than my day with Will earlier this week :-).  We left Target with a new pair of fancy flip-flops (sorry if this is not what they are, but that's what they look like), and she also 'had' to have the matching purple purse.  Personally, I think it is more like a clutch, and Ava wanted to know the difference in the two.  Being now completely in touch with my feminine side, I educated her on the differences between a clutch, a purse, a bag, and a pouch.

Ava certainly did her share of educating me at Target though.  In some form of the following sentence, I heard this once, if not 10x.  "No Pappy, that hair bow (clip, ring, bead, earring, necklace, etc.) does not go with that purse (shoe, skirt, hair clip, eye shadow, etc.)"  She told me all about how certain things had to go with other things, and how you didn't match certain colors with certain styles, and how things had to coordinate, but that some contrast was acceptable.

I said "Ava, how old are you?"  She said 6.  I said Uh-Huh, sure you are . . . yeah right, 6.  Wow.

It was time for lunch, and one of Ava's favorite places to eat is Panda Express.  She loves the orange chicken and the lo mien.  I must say, for fast food Chinese, this place does it right.  Ava told me that she knew how to use chop sticks, and of course I believed her, but having never seen her do it, I thought this would be a treat.  Awe-So, so this is how it's done, no wonder I've never been able to figure them out.  If I remember right, you take a chop stick in each hand, and you stab the pieces of chicken hard enough to skewer it, and then you eat one side at a time, like a k-bob.  Good job Ava, I'll never think of chop sticks the same way ever again.

We were close to Pier 1, and we stopped off to look at a new blue vase and blue frame that were on sale.  I had no idea that Ava would be "in her element" in this store too.  Ava LOVED this place!  She must have touched, smelled, picked up, inspected, or analyzed 91% of the items in the store that were within her reach.  Thankfully, she's not yet 5' tall, so a lot of the inventory was still out of her reach.  She sweetly told me nearing the end of our 3-day sleepover in the store that she was going to buy me a special gift, just for me.  I love you Ava, I look forward to seeing what you pick out for me.

Our final stop of the day was Jewelry Galore.  Uh, can you say girly?  The store clerk welcomed us with open arms (she must know a Pappy when she sees one, and knows she's about to make a BIG sale).  She asked "have you ever been in the store before?", and when I said no, she made it her personal mission to show me everything that "my little girl" would want.  Not too shockingly, she was right, as Ava walked out with a hair bow, hair clip, ring, scarf, bracelet, and other sundries that I just don't remember.  My head was spinning from the incessant drone of Selena, Cee-Lo, and the BEP's rockin' the radio; which of course, Ava was keeping perfect pitch as she sung along.

I love you Ava Corinne.  You are one precious and super-special Monster.  I look forward to our next day together, as this one was certainly one for the memory books too!

  

WP ~ Making Memories

5 years ago this spring; I started a tradition with my g'kids (Ava being the first) of periodically picking them up and having them run with me to various job sites to see how things were going.  Ava Corinne (more about her in the next blog, as she is with me tomorrow) by far enjoyed many more of these initial visits than did the others, due to her advanced intelligence.  It's been fun every time.

Yesterday was WP's turn.  These trips have decreased greatly in frequency since Ava and Will have begun school, and spring break this week afforded them some time off.

WP's favorite color is blue, as is mine.  He was dressed in a blue jacket, and I was wearing his favorite blue stripped shirt.  He'd been so excited about the day that he'd made a list on a special blue sticky note pad.  It was his duty of the day to check the items off as we completed them (yes, he too is a task master; and loves structure.)

Our first stop was QT, as we did need gas, and he needed his Pumpkin Coffee.  Unfortunately, QT had stopped carrying Pumpkin Coffee the prior week, and replaced it with Cinnamon Roll.  He didn't care for it as much, but wanted to try it anyway.  A fresh donut was offered him, as was a cookie, but as is Will's nature, he declined both offers.  Food is not that big a deal to him . . .

We headed to play golf (at Dick's), and got pretty soaked walking in.  The door greeter lady commented on what a pretty son I had, and I said thank you, and moved on.  I have stopped telling people that I am their Pappy, and not Dad, as it has happened so many times the last 5 years that it has become routine.  So, I just smile and say thank you.  It is much easier.

Upon arrival at the putting green, WP makes his putter selection (blue handled of course), and begins to challenge me to a putting contest.  I picked up a matching blue handled putter, getting a precious smile from WP by doing so, and we lined the balls up.  Will went first, and from 18' away missed it by just a hair, but with so much force that it went 30' over and under the adjoining racks of men's clothes.  After retrieving the ball; I lined up my shot.  WP said "take a few practice swings Pappy, you'll do better", so I did.  I then hit the ball, and watched it travel into the hole.  Will hooped and hollered like he'd just seen Phil win the masters.  So easy to please . . .

It was the first time that I'd had a putter in my hands in 4+ years, and thus I was quite surprised to have holed a 22' on my first attempt.  It had to be the sage advice of WP "Haney Project" Kueny of "take a few practice swings Pappy, you'll do better" :-).

The next 30 minutes were spent putting, and spelling.  I know, the two don't mix, but Will is learning to read, and he saw letters all over these hole flags, and repeatedly asked me what an assortment of letters sounded like.  He'd turned it into a game.  He's good at games.  He's also good at seeing letters.

As we were leaving the store, WP happened by a bright purple long sleeved ladies Nike workout top, and said "Oh Pappy look, Nini would love that!"  Such a sweet tender hearted boy, yes, Nini would love that, and probably already owns something just like it, but that is so sweet for you to have noticed.

After being strapped up and headed to the bowling alley, I was slowly making my way onto the road, and I heard Will mumbling numbers.  Random numbers, or maybe they were sequenced, but he was definitely mumbling numbers.  I asked him "Will, what are you doing?"  His reply, "I'm quietly counting numbers to myself Paps; do you mind?"  And I said, carry on my boy, carry on.  More power to you if you like to count numbers; we need more people in the world that love to count numbers.

Upon arrival at BA Bowling, there was some concern that there would not be any open lanes, as the parking lot was full of mini-vans, cuv's, suv's, trucks, jeeps; etc.  It didn't take long to realize these were mostly soccer mom types with a boat load of kids.  (Their idiotic stickets on the rear glass showing all of the names, soccer balls, baseballs, footballs, frisbee's, dead birds, dogs, diapers, and baton's was a dead giveaway.)

And sure enough, as we walked through the front door, we were hit by a cacophony of sounds, mostly of children age 4 to 10 in various forms of excitement.  We got one of the last few lanes, #31, and proceeded with caution.  We were sandwiched in between I believe 18 soccer mom types, (I was one of the only males in the entire building), and I think there were 57 bowling children as off-spring of these 18 soccer moms. 

Wow, this was a loud place, and wished I had on my Bose earphones.  Hearing their non-stop chatter, as well as crashing pins, and you can only imagine the sheer delight that I was having of 57 children all yelling at the same time.  Somehow, I was able to 'zone out', and kept my focus on WP, and our 'task' of bowling.  Will loves to bowl, but he loves the arcade too, and yes, before you ask, there were even more youngsters playing in the arcade.  They were all angels though; there was not a bad seed in the bunch . . ., not a single bad seed . . ., not a one that I want to beat with a pogo stick . . .

When we left the bowling alley, I was holding his hand, and was thinking to myself how fast he was growing up, what a big boy he was becoming, how proud I was to be his Pappy, and how much I loved him.  Less than 2 minutes later, he brought me back to reality that he's not that big yet, as he said "Pappy, where's my sippy cup?"  He'd left it inside, and thankfully it was there when we went back inside.  I realized though that if he's 5 and still thinks its cool to drink from a sippy cup, then so be it, and I'm not going to tell him otherwise!

Here is his bowling score sheet, and his sticky of things to do that we kept track of:

Our morning together was concluded over lunch at Ron's.  Will chose, and quickly told me he wanted chicken and fries.  I had no idea how hungry he was.  Will's eating habits are quite persnickety, and I was pleased but surprised as he downed 6 nuggets, and a quite large pile of fries.  He never eats that much, but Mom told me that he'd skipped breakfast to make sure he would be good and hungry when it was time for lunch with Pappy.

I love you WP.  I loved having you with me yesterday, and look forward to our next trip together!

Jack Arthur ~ Happy 4th!

Happy Birthday Jack!  Our little tank turns 4 today.  Sure wish we had some firecrackers to light today, as they pop about as bright as your personality! 

I've talked about Jack a few times before, but thinking about him today makes me smile ~ as that is his speciality ~ smiling!  Man, this boy can smile!  And it's a great smile too, not one of those dorky little girly-boy grins; it is an earlobe to earlobe smile, as I can count the teeth in his head with each smile.  Don't ever lose that smile my little fire hydrant; it will take you far in life!

Jack Arthur, another personal word of encouragement from your loving Pappy; yes, you ARE bigger than 'the baby', but I hope you're preparing yourself for the inevitable.  Meaning, you probably AREN'T going to always be bigger than 'the baby' :-).  (I think O'Mike is going to dwarf everyone in this family other than Jared Henry.)

So eat hearty today, enjoy the cake, the ice cream, and whatever other goodies are being prepared for you.  I love you always Jack Arthur Stank.

- Pappy

P.S.  I can hear the football announcer now "he jukes left, he plows right, he's leaving them in the dust! Man, that Stank boy can run. Better not get in his way, he'll run right over you ~ no wonder they called him a little tank when he was growing up!"

Once Upon A Time There Were 4 Little Boys

Once upon a time, there were four little boys.  These little boys loved to go to a magical wonderland, called Pappy’s Place.

One cold Monday evening, these four boys arrived at Pappy’s for a night of food and fun.  The evening was filled with sounds of boy ecstasy; as over a period of three hours, these four boys did not stop playing.

The youngest of the four, affectionately called O’Mike, was keeper of the fire, assisting Pappy with firewood, stoking, and telling Pappy “it’s too hot.”  O’Mike also kept Pappy on his radar screen for the entire evening, as his most common question was “Pappy, where you at?”  O’Mike was great at finding Pappy, as they played hide & seek, and they played ping pong, and they played Bigfoot, and O’Mike was the one that sought out Pappy for meal time.

Almost immediately upon arrival at the magical wonderland, WP & O’Mike began their ping pong tournament, which quickly turned to big wheels, which became Wii bowling, Wii golf, and Wii tennis.  But wait, there’s more!  Yes, for within an hour of arrival, the other two little boys had arrived; with their names being Jared & Jack. 

Within .003 milliseconds of the arrival of Jared & Jack, the four boys had burst outside for flag football.  Running around the back yard in the cold temps did not deter these boys, and ‘flag’ is just a useless euphemism, as each of them (save Jared) tries their best to tackle the ball carrier.  The rules for this form of football are somewhat convoluted, but it does not matter to this motley crew, as they keep their eye on the prize of running for the dirt pile, which has become their end zone.

Once their lungs were sufficiently burned from gasping the cold winter air, they came inside for a brief respite in front of the fire; only to be whisked upstairs by Queen Nini for board games.  In a period of 22 minutes, these little boys played approximately 12 different board games, and once exhausted from this activity, they came downstairs to eat.

Pappy had made these boys an Italian feast replete with his infamous home-made Lasagna, toasted crust points, and Bruschetta.  The adoring fans of this feast consumed approximately 2.5 total bites of food between the 4 of them; as it was time to hunt Bigfoot!

Camp Bigfoot had been discovered earlier in the evening, with rumors of Bigfoot resting inside a mammoth size tent that had been built in the nearest living room.  Flash lights were emptied from the cabinets, and O’Mike (the bravest of the four) led the search party.  The sounds of Bigfoot permeated the walls, the halls, and the hearts of these four young lads; but it was all for naught, as Bigfoot eluded capture yet again.

As it became evident that Bigfoot would not be captured, a few of the boys lit out for a room filled with trains, building blocks, and the GI Joe army men.  The others decided it was time for more football but quickly too decided that they would be involved in capturing enemy troops fortified behind plastic bunkers.  It was a brutal fight, but in the end, the green plastic GI Joe’s prevailed!

But gasp!  Bath time was upon them.  A breath had yet to be taken amongst these four boys, and how was it possible that 3 hours had passed so quickly?  This night was a night for speed bathing though ~ get in and out as quick as possible, washing only the most smelly of parts, and head back to the front; as there was still time remaining for one more game of Wii, or would it be ping pong?

Instead, the boys opted to be measured for enlistment into Pappy’s Place “Hall Of Fame”.

Prince Jared beamed when it was announced that at age 7 years and 4 months, that he had attained the height of 4’ 5”, with a weight of 65 lbs.  It was mutually agreed that in only 12 more years that Price Jared will tower over all of us at 6’ 4”.

Prince WP glowed when it was announced that at age 5 years and 3 months, that he had attained the height of 3’ 81/2”, with a weight of 39 lbs.  Consensus confirmed that in only 14 more years, Prince WP will stand tall at 6’ 1”, but at a rather boney 155.

Prince Jack shouted with glee when it was announced that at age 3 years and 11 months, that he had attained the height of 3’ 6”, with a weight of 37 lbs.  Prophetic revelation believes that Prince Jack will be known in 16 years on football fields around the nation as the human ‘fire hydrant’, with the power of 230 lbs. compacted onto a 5’ 6” frame, not to be caught by anyone!

Price O’Mike postured his position when it was announced that at age 2 years and 7 months, that he had attained the height of 3’ 41/4”, with a weight of 31 lbs.  O’Mike’s skeptics have long since headed for the hills, as this is gonna be one big dude.  6’ 3” and 225 lbs. of solid muscle is going to bust some heads if they get in his way on the basketball court.  Yes, the basketball court, as O’Mike is a wizard with a ball in those hands.

Two bags of popcorn were enjoyed over a few episodes of George, and then it was time for Pappy’s Princes to head home for slumber and dreams of the next magical trip to Pappy’s Place.

They’ll be back for more though, and very soon!  Of that, Pappy can be sure, and thankful, for Pappy is a blessed man.  A blessed man indeed.   

Angela Corinne ~ Happy Birthday!

This blog has special instructions.  Before proceeding, please solve the following word problem:

The X-ray techs start their shift at 06:45 on Monday's & Friday's.  On 2 of the remaining 5 days of the week, their shifts begin at 14:45, allowing for 3 days to be considered 'off'.  The QT fuel trucks use the entire 24 hour day, 365 days a year to deliver fuel to their stations, with each tanker truck holding a predetermined amount of fuel.  The Big 12 was the Big 8.  As the Big 12, it became 8 teams, 9 teams, and now is 10 teams; though it is still called the Big 12.  1980 was a leap year, 1981 was not.  On any given morning at 07:00, there are 142 diners in the hospital cafeteria, with 63% of them consuming eggs, and 81% of those consuming coffee.  However, in the nursery, if there are only 36 cribs, 2 nurses, and 12 mothers about to deliver babies in the maternity ward; what will the ratio of cribs to nurses to mothers be in relation to the number of babies about to be delivered? Assuming that 2 of the mother's are pregnant with twins, how will this effect the nurses lunch schedule, and what will the frequency be for newborns that require hourly diaper changes, since this February of '81 only has 28 days?  Lastly, because the QT driver is an OSU basketball fan in the Big 8, how will he go "Back To The Future" to see tonight's tipoff, since the movie was not made until 1985, with roman numerials written as MCMLXXXV?  Using Pi (3.14159 in case you have forgotten), please justify your answer: _________________________________________

My baby girl turns 31 today.  Happy Birthday Honey! 

My snaggletooth, my jabba-the-hut, my "it's just you and me kid", my Angel, my Bange, my Bangela, my foot-action-ang, my Tony Roma's manager, my roller-coaster-hating, my #23 loving, my 6 time world champion Bulls games watcher, my Angie-math, my vomit hating, my word problem despising, my almost Mrs. Zeke (thank you Lord she's not), my sleeper, my sister, my Shania concert date, my Carrie concert date, my Barnaby loving; daughter.  My own daughter.  I love the memories, and I love being her father . . .

Angela was almost born on Christmas Eve, 1980, as Pam went into labor when Angela was 6 months old, and though advances in medicine were great, the odds would have been on the low side for Angela to have lived, had she been born.  Pam had an emergency c-section surgery to stop the labor; but it was a crisis pregnancy for the next 2 months.

Angela was born by c-section, 5 weeks premature, quite a tiny baby of only 6 lbs., and she was very sick.  Pam had gained over 50 lbs., and it was a rough pregnancy.  Angela was born with 'massive fetal acites', as her belly was swollen and was much-much larger than her head; unable to fit through the birth canal.

Angela was in the neo-natal intensive care nursery of St. John's for 3 weeks, and I tear up writing this thinking about my baby girl almost dying; but being one of the fortunate ones that made it.  That nursery was, and still is, filled with lots of sadness, but thankfully more happiness than sadness.  Babies filled the rooms being born 1-2 lbs., kept alive on respirators for 1 year, and still the baby only weighed 3-4 lbs. after a full year out of the womb before they went home.

Bo James Galloway.  No, that is not Angela's husband.  But, it would have been a cool part of the story had they at least met later in life; and who knows, they still might.  I just couldn't leave him out, as their cribs were always next to each others in the nursery.  Bo James was also a premie born on the same day as Angela, very sick too, weighing in at about 5 lbs.  Bo had lung problems (as most premies do), and it was pathetic to watch this tiny little boy struggle for every breath.  Bo made it out of the hospital though, and we lost track of him, but we shared many days/nights with his parents at the same time that Angela was in the hospital.

Angela was born with a full head of long thick black hair, and with skin much darker than normal as a result of her sickness.  On birth day, when Pam was drugged out of her mind from pain killers of the surgery, the nurse laid Angela on Pam's chest in that cherished 'first look' moment, and Pam burst out not with tears, but with a shout still echoing in the halls "That's NOT my baby! that's a BLACK baby! Where's my baby?!"  Nanny was alongside the bed, and reassured Pam, as I did, that this was indeed Angela, and that no one had switched her baby.  It was quite a funny exchange, and of course, the attending black nurse standing right next to the bed got a real kick out it too . . .

Jackie, our oldest daughter, was born bald.  She was still bald when Angela was born 22 months later.  Pam also was born bald.  Neither Pam nor Jackie had had a shock of hair until nearly 3, so it was quite a surprise to Pam that her newest daughter had hair, and a lot of hair, and that it was black.  Genetics?  What does that matter?  My parents both had black hair.  Pam's dad had the thickest and most black hair that I'd ever seen (and even now at 75, his hair is still mostly black).  Plus, when I had hair, it was black.  So, why shouldn't Angela have had black hair?  Well, she should have, but Pam still had issues with the hair; remember, it was a drug thing . . .

Earlier I wrote that the premie nursery was a very sad place.  One day (or night) I don't remember which, Pam and I came to the hospital to visit Angela.  She was gone.  We looked in every crib, in every room.  We thought she was being changed, bathed, fed, or something, but she wasn't with any of the nurses either.  She was gone, we thought she'd died and that no one had called us.  After our panic subsided, one of the nurses said "she's not gone, she's right over there" as she pointed to our baby with a white beanie cap on her head to keep her warm.  (Here's the pic.)  We weren't really looking for a baby, we were looking for the baby with all the black hair, and the beanie cap completely covered her black hair, making her look bald.  What a relief.

We didn't have a name for Angela until she was born.  Pam and I had waffled on names, and just couldn't come up with one.  But, on the day of her birth, I thought she was an Angel, and thought of Angela.  Pam loved it too, and that's how she was named.  The Corinne came from a character in our favorite sit-com "Soap".  It only took me 30 years to learn how to spell Corinne though.  See, the birth certificate is wrong, but you can't fix those, at least not affordably.  It reads Corrinne, not Corinne as it should.  And, over the years, I spelled it both ways, plus Corrine; oh well, I finally figured out a way to remember it, and of course, numbers did it.  1, 2.  Don't ask.

Angela today is a great wife, mother, and a friend.  As her father, (no, it wasn't the black man) I can also say that I am now friends with both of my daughters.  It's an age and maturity thing, hard for me to explain, but I love the father-daughter-friend relationship that I have with both of my daughters as their father, and as their friend.

Angela has been married to Joe for 6 years, is mother to Ava Corinne and Emma Jo, and is a stay at home mom. 

I love her dearly, and will forever.  Happy Birthday Sweetheart :-)   - Dad

P.S.  Angela said that she wanted Carrie's legs for her birthday, so here they are.