dad
From the moment his sister, Siara was born, my grand nephew, Jake became her protector. It didn’t matter if someone was bullying her or simply teasing her, Jake took it upon himself to make it right. That’s the kind of guy he is. When Siara was little, she hated to eat anything that was broken. Her dad thought this was hillarious, and so when her mom, my niece, Chantel, gave the kids a Little Debbie snack cake, her dad would flick the cake, breaking the frosting before giving it to her. Siara would fall to her knees and wail mournfully, “It’s broken!!” Even though Jake was only 5 or 6 years old, he would quickly say, “It’s ok CC, lets trade!” Immediately the situation was all better. After, his parents’ divorce, Jake became the man of the house…a role he had practiced for all his little life. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his sister.
Growing up in a home without a dad, Jake had to deal with the influence of a single mom and a 
sister. We all know that the driver of the car gets to pick the radio station. so in the mornings, Jake had to listen to the music his mom liked. Chantel liked to make sure the day started out with everyone in a good mood, so singing on the way to school…to Chantel’s favorite songs…was the way the drive went. To this day, Jake knows every word of Shania Twain’s “I Feel Like A Woman” and Jake..in typical Jake style says, “Hey, I was raised by a single mom, and I have a sister. Don’t judge!” I say it takes a man who is comfortable in his own skin to be able to say I sang that with my mom and sister, and I have no regrets.
When Chantel’s current husband came into their lives, Jake just wasn’t sure he wanted to trust another man in the house again. He tried so hard not to like Dave, even telling Chantel that Dave looked like a serial killer…a statement as far from what Dave is like as the Earth is from the Sun…but Dave was very different than Jake’s real dad, and he soon won Jake’s respect, and more importantly his heart. Three weeks later, Jake asked if he could call Dave…Dad. Jake’s days of having to carry the load of being the man of the house alone, were over.
Still, there was the Siara issue, and as Chantel says, “The door swings both ways.” One
day, before Dave was a true member of their family, Jake in normal kid style, pushed his sister down on their trampoline. Apparently, it’s ok for Jake to pick on his sister. Since Dave was in the back yard, Siara did the logical thing and told on Jake. Dave went to the trampoline and jerked Jake to the edge so that he could tell him never to push his sister again, but before Dave to say a word, Chantel tells me that he saw a little blond vapor trail and heard the slamming of the screen door as Siara ran into the house to tell Chantel, “Mom!!! Dave is hurting Jake!!” It just goes to show you that while siblings might pick on each other, no one else gets to pick on their sibling. Today is Jake’s birthday. Happy birthday Jake!! Have a wonderful day!!
Everyone has their own parenting styles. Kids can be a trial, and some of us are patient, and some are not. My dad was a person who did his best to resolve issues peacefully, where my mom was one to spank first and talk later. The funny thing was that when Mom got tired of our bickering, she would tell us to, “wait until your dad gets home” which always brought thoughts of terror, although I never figured out why. Dad tried his best to resolve the problem without spanking. His way was to talking it out and I can count the times I was spanked by Dad in my life on one hand…well ok, maybe 2 hands, but it wasn’t much, so I don’t understand to this day why we thought he was going to pound us into sand. I did find out that grounding, by either parent, was very effective too, especially as we got older. It’s real hard to date, when you are grounded.
One thing I took away from my childhood was patience…not that I had anywhere near the patience of my dad. No, I was much more hands on than my dad, and far less patient. My girls quickly learned that if they didn’t want to see that hands on tactic, they had better mind me. After a while, I could snap my fingers, and two little mouths would instantly shut. I guess I had a way of handling things peacefully too…peace and quiet, that is. If the girls didn’t want to be on the receiving end of my hands on tactics, the had better respond quickly to my finger snapping tactic. When my grandkids came along, I had more of my dad’s patience, but they still experienced the hands on tactic occasionally. One thing that my kids 
and grandkids knew though…I loved them…no matter what.
No matter what type of parenting tactic a parent uses, the main thing is to parent with love, because it makes the discipline easier to take. Your kids will never like your form of discipline anyway, and you have to do what you have to do. It is your job, and you are not their friend, you are their parent. It is your job to teach them how to make it in this world, and one day they will be these wonderful adults, who have taken your lessons and passed them on to their kids. I vividly remember telling my parents after a spanking one time, “I’m NEVER going to spank my kids!!” And all I can say to that is…”Right.”
For years, my son-in-law, Travis liked to play a game with his wife, my daughter Amy and their kids. They got pretty good at the game as well. I don’t really know how it got started, but I always seemed to be the sucker who fell for the whole thing. The way it is played is this. The person who randomly decides to play, simply makes the ok sign with their hand, and then says your name. When you look at the ok sign, it is as if you had flinched. At first Shai and Caalab weren’t very good at it, and they got the good ole double punch in the shoulder, but after a few of those, they decided to figure this thing out. I don’t know how often they managed to catch their dad on it, but my guess is that it wasn’t much…Travis is really good at it.
Their grandma…was another story. I think I must have been their best practice session provider. It wasn’t my fault really, because I mean…after all, your grandma is supposed to pay attention to you when you are talking, and look at the things you show her. I mean that is understood, isn’t it? Whether that is how it is supposed to go or not…that is how it went with me. Call me gullible if you want. They caught me 90% of the time…at least!! And I wasn’t trying to be nice and let them either, it’s just that when my grandchildren ask me to look at something, or even just call my name, I have a hard time thinking they have diabolical plans for me…again, call me gullible.
The kids had a great time with the flinching game, for a number of years, but as with any of these types of games, you outgrow them after a while…at least for now anyway. If I know my grandchildren, this particular game could be resurrected at any give point, if one of them decided that they could get away with putting one over on grandma again. To avoid these surprise attacks, I would need to be alert and vigilant. I would need to avoid being too trusting. Right…that’s gonna happen!!
It’s strange to think about the amount of things you don’t know about your dad, or anyone else for that matter, but when I think about my parents, I expect that I should know most things about them. I guess there are stories that were never told, or little things that just didn’t seem important, and so were passed over. Such is the case with my dad’s time in World War II. I’m not talking about the major things that Dad couldn’t talk about in his letters home, but some of the smaller things. Today I was reading his letter dated August 1, 1944, in which he talks about having a little down time from flying missions. He and a friend went to the gym. In his letter, my dad mentioned punching a bag for a while, among other unnamed exercises.
I never knew that my dad had any interest in boxing, although I vividly remember playing a little boxing game with him every once in a while in the hallway at home. Of course, he never hit me, it was a game. Dad was very quick, and no matter how much I tried to defend my face, he always managed to get a tap in. Looking back, I think my dad taught 
me a lot about self defense in those little sparring matches, but it never occurred to me that he had any real interest in boxing. I just thought it was a natural ability he had.
Dad had a great time with those sparring matches, and I guess I must have been a bit of a Tomboy, because I did too. I managed to get in a few good taps during those years, but I promise you, it was very few. Talk about feeling uncoordinated!! Nevertheless, if I got one in, I knew it was real and it was an accomplishment, because he didn’t just let me get one in…which is something I was always grateful for. Letting a little kid win at a game once in a while is fine, but if you do it too often, they don’t learn to play well, nor do they learn sportsmanship. Dad’s laughing, fun way of teaching me self defense was something I will always remember fondly about him, and now I know a little bit more about what he was like back then.
There is so much controversy these days concerning guns and gun control, and while I don’t usually write about political events, this one hits close to home for me and my family. For many years, my Uncle Bill was a gun dealer. He and his family had always had guns. He became interested in antique guns at some point and began to collect, deal, and show the guns at gun shows all over the north central part of the United States, and possibly even in the north west part, as well. Uncle Bill and my dad, as well as their sisters were raised around guns, and yet not one of them ever killed someone.
My family and my husband’s family have been around guns all our lives too. Our parents have hunted, as have many of us children and our spouses. If you live in Wyoming, as in many other places, owning a gun is really not so unusual. It doesn’t, however, give any indication that the gun owners here, or anywhere else are likely to commit murder. And, while people who torture animals, often move on to killing people, hunters usually do not. Legal hunters have a respect for the animals they hunt. It is to provide food for their family, that the hunter hunts.
For centuries, people have owned guns, and during all those years, mass school shootings were unheard of…until recently. Christians, like myself, mostly agree that it is largely because we have kicked God out of our schools. That makes so many people angry, because they think we are talking about God being angry at the schools because He was kicked out, but that isn’t it at all. In my opinion, when we removed God from our schools, we stopped teaching morality. Generations of kids have grown up with a changed view of right and wrong. Then those same kids are out there making television shows, video games, writing books, creating pictures, and so many other things that our impressionable kids are viewing. Wrong has become right…if it seems right to the person doing the wrong. It has become a matter of “the devil made me do it” or simply a matter of not allowing anyone to step on our feelings. It has become a good thing to be bad, and a good show is called wicked.
I think, that is we want to change things in this nation, we need to change what we are teaching our kids in school, and in life. Guns don’t kill people…people kill people, and very often, guns are not the weapon of choice, in fact, guns are used the least amount 
of the time. We can’t remove every possible weapon for the hands of people, unless we want to live in a Nerf world, and even then, people will use their hands, or they will just use rocks. We have to start teaching our kids and our adults the value of human life, and to respect each person’s right to life. We have to realize that few people intentionally set out to hurt the feelings of others, and as with bullying, the ones who do need to be swiftly punished. We need to stop looking at others as less important than we are, and treat each person with respect, no matter how the look, talk, and no matter what their race, gender, or age is. Our ancestors carried guns for many centuries, and did not shoot up schools or other public places in order to make a point, possibly because of the values our nation started on. Maybe we need to work to make all people feel like they are a person of value, because it isn’t the gun that kills, it is the person bent on revenge who kills people.
My grand nephew Ethan is 4 years old today, and at this age, he is really coming into his own. He has lost the toddler aspect of his personality, and it has been replaced with a little boy with ideas of his own. He knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. And he doesn’t mind telling you what he thinks about it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Ethan is a very well behaved little boy…he just knows what he wants to do. His mom, Chelsea told me the other day that he wanted to come to my office, which just happens to be just down the street from where he lives. He tried very hard to insist on it, but it wasn’t a good day for Chelsea to 
bring him. That just melted my heart. Ethan is such a sweet boy, but it never occurred to me that he might enjoy stopping by my office for a visit. It was just such a sweet little moment, and I told Chelsea that she would have to bring him by real soon.
Ethan has a shy side too, though. Sometimes at church, when he feels like maybe there are just too many people around, he will hardly talk to me or anyone else but his parents, grandma or his aunts. Of course, that doesn’t include the other kids, because Ethan is all about playing with the kids…any kids. He loves his little neighborhood friends, his cousins, and his friends at school, and he loves his teacher, who he often calls Mrs DeHaigler, 
instead of Mrs Haigler…a mistake that I find very cute, as I’m sure his teacher will too.
Ethan loves to laugh, and loves to hang out with the guys. If his dad or grandpa are doing something, it just must be cool, and Ethan wants to be a part of it. He is all boy, and loves doing the guy things that boys love to do. And Ethan loves to make his little sister laugh. He loves being a big brother, and loves having a live in playmate, and of course, Aurora thinks Ethan is the greatest big brother ever. On that one, she could be right…or biased, but you’ll never convince her of that. Happy birthday Ethan!! We love you!! Have a super cool day!!
My dad was always a cowboy at heart. In his younger days, he rode horses, worked on the family farm, and did all the other cowboy type things. He listened to country music, and liked old westerns on television, or attend the rodeo. But, the one thing that that, in my opinion showed his cowboy style the best, was the cowboy hat that he so often wore. You almost never saw him in any other hat on vacation, and he wore it if they went someplace that it would fit in for. I’m quite sure he hated not being able to wear it to the places that it just wasn’t appropriate.
Dad always took such good care of his hat, and you could always tell that he was one of the good guys, because his hat was always white, and of course, the good guys in any old western, wore a white hat. I suppose that was like the football teams of today. If all the helmets looked alike, how would you know which team was yours. So we always knew that Dad was a good guy, because he wore a white hat.
Oh, Dad had other hats too, and in fact I can vividly see him is one of the many baseball type hats he had, and of course, there was the hat that was a tool of his trade…the hard hat. I clearly remember him in those, but I never felt like they fit his personality like the cowboy hat did. Dad was always the guy I thought of when someone said cowboy. He wore the Bolo ties, and the western belt and vest, and what cowboy would be complete without the cowboy boots, but none of that said cowboy as much as the cowboy hat.
When I think of my dad, I have to say that one of my favorite pictures is of Dad on a horse with his white cowboy hat. He was doing one of his favorite things…taking his family on a vacation. They had taken a horseback ride on a trail, and Dad looked so happy. He was in his element, in the mountains on vacation, and riding a horse. Just what a cowboy would want to be doing.
When my mom married my dad, on July 18, 1953, her life was about to change dramatically. Their honeymoon would be spent sightseeing along the route from Casper, Wyoming to their new home in Superior, Wisconsin, which is where they would live for the next 5 years. Being a young wife and soon mother, and living far away from your own family, and especially your parents can be hard, especially on holidays and your birthday, which for my mom, coincided with the New Year’s Day holiday. Mom was a New Year’s Baby, and that had always made her birthday extra special. As a young wife, you never know if your husband will remember your birthday, much less do something to celebrate it, But with my dad, Mom need not have worried. Of course, the day that was her birthday made remembering it easy, but the rest was all dad…well, with a little help from Mom and later the kids and grandkids. You can’t really plan a party like that every year, all by yourself.
As the years and their family grew, they would move back to Casper, Wyoming, where the younger 3 of their 5 daughters were born. Mom’s birthday would always be celebrated with a New Years Eve party, and the house would be filled joy and laughter, music and dancing, and of course, good food. Dad never forgot her birthday and made each one special. There was never a doubt as to where we would celebrate New Years Eve, because we loved having the big party at our house. Most of our friends didn’t get to do anything, but the Spencer house was always rockin’ on New Year’s Eve.
Since their wedding day, more than 59 years have come and gone. Dad left us and went home to be with the Lord, 5 years ago December 12th, and the torch has now been passed on to Mom’s daughters. Mom knows that her birthday will be celebrated in the usual style that is the Spencer tradition. The party was held, although it was, as always a 
little bit lonely, because Dad was once again celebrating with Jesus this year. Still, I know that if he was here he would have been proud of the way it turned out, because this year…like every year was better than the one before, and Mom’s birthday will be a beautiful celebration for our beautiful mom. She is one in a million, and each year starts out reminding us just how blessed we are that she is our mom. Happy birthday Mom!! We love you!!
Many people have been looking forward to this day all year, because they believe it will be the luckiest day of the year, or just a cool day to get married or have a baby on, or whatever special thing they have going on in their lives. This day does not feel like a cool day to me, but it is a day that I will mark for a very different reason. Today, 12-12-12 at 12:00pm, marks the 5 year anniversary of my dad’s graduation to Heaven. I know that was a wonderful day for him, but for me, it is a lonely day, because I miss him so much. It never occurred to me when I was growing up, that I would ever live a day without my parents on this earth. A crazy thought…probably, but it was the thought of a daughter who loves her parents very much…a daughter who could not imagine a world without her dear parents in it…then. I can imagine it now, and I do not like it at all.
Looking back on all the wonderful days of my first 50 years, I know without question that I have lead a very blessed life, as have my mom, my sisters, and all of my dad’s grandchildren and those great grandchildren who had the opportunity to know him. Dad was fun loving, and made things fun for all of us. He was a great kidder, and 
passed that love of teasing on to his girls. There was always some kind of joking going on, and it taught us to take a joke and to laugh about things. There was always a lot of laughter at our house.
My dad always seemed so young. He never seemed to age. I think it was that he was so young in spirit. He was a kid at heart, and it carried into his life. Dad was a very positive, loving person. He always had a way of looking for the best in people and the best in every situation. What a great way to be!! I think that is one of the things that made my dad great. My dad is the kind of person I want to be, but I could never be as amazing as he was. All I can do is try my best to follow in his footsteps…to live the way he taught us. He made being a loving person seem so easy, no matter what was going on…he just walked in love. Forgiving people for their faults and looking for something good in them. It didn’t matter what mistakes we made as kids, Dad always said something like, “Well, just try to do better next time.” Whenever I’m having a rough day, I think back on Dad’s forgiving ways, and I try to live in a way that would make him 
proud of me.
Five long years have come and gone since my dad went to Heaven. It is our great loss, and Heaven’s gain. I know that my dad is ok, and living happily with his parents, sisters, his 2 granddaughters and other family members who have gone before, and that this is their time with him. I know they are busily catching up and rejoicing in the presence of our Lord. I know I will see him and the rest of the family again. And mostly, I know that the Comforter is with me and my family today, because God knows we have need of comfort. I love you Daddy, and I’ll see you again very soon. You are in my future for now.
During the holidays, my thoughts often turn to our military men and women who will likely spend their holidays far from home, whether they are in a war zone or not. I was never in the military, but my dad was, as were and in some cases, still are, brothers-in-law, nephews, and cousins. It is such a lonely feeling to think of being so far away from loved ones during the holidays, and it isn’t just about the festivities. For many spouses, and even children, it is about hoping that everything is under control back home. Worrying about things being broken down, needing maintenance, or even if there is someone to help with decorating for the holidays, are all things that are on the minds of our military men and women all the time, and especially during the holidays.
My dad was not married at the time he served in the military during World War II, but he and his brother and sisters had always played a big part in the running of the family farm, while their dad was away working on the railroad. I was reading the letters he wrote home in the days leading up to and including Christmas of 1943. Dad was always such a caring person, and he especially struggled with the idea of his mom and younger sister trying to run the farm by themselves. In Dad’s letter he expresses his concern, and then asks his brother to rent a house in town for the girls. Dad was also always concerned 
that they might not have enough money. He rarely spent much money on himself, saying that he didn’t really need much. That way, he could send more money home. He told his mom to use any or all of the money he sent home to save for when he got out, saying that he could always make more, and their needs were more important than a savings account.
Dad’s letters to his mom and siblings have been a treasured window into the person my dad was. He was a deeply caring man, who always took care of those he loved. Like so many other military men and women, he wished he could be home for the holidays, but he understood that he was doing something very important. He was fighting for freedom for our nation, and the nations around us who couldn’t fight for themselves. Dad’s sacrifice and the sacrifices of so many other military men and women have made so many freedoms possible, and yet, they themselves lose so much. It is something that we don’t always think about, and something I want to commend today.
