To find just the right words to describe this is difficult. "Carefree" comes to mind, as does "innocent". Maybe "simple" or "simply blissful" would do it justice.
It is a feeling I am trying to convey. I suspect that if you ever stepped up on top of your father's shoes and gazed at him, as he whirled you slowly around, you know the feeling I am talking about.
I was probably four years old and I wanted to marry my daddy. I thought if he would just wait until I was his age(in a few years), then he and I could say "I do" and live happily ever after. I was sure my mother would understand and be tolerant of this bigamist arrangement.
Our family had one of those old LP record players, the kind that closes up like a small suitcase. The album was by Floyd Kramer; I was very fond of his song "Last Date". Daddy would start the music and take hold of my hands, as I stood on the tops of his shoes with my tiny feet. I looked up at his twinkling eyes, his smile washing over me, and I was sure he was "my fella". I knew instinctively he would always be here, young and strong, and he would always love and protect me. What girl could resist a Prince Charming such as he?
My mother said that from the start, I had Daddy wrapped around my little finger. She told me of a time when I was two years old and had found a stuffed toy lamb, on wheels, at the local hardware store. I could sit on it and make it roll around the room. This so delighted me, I refused to let go of it when the time came to return home. Mom said she would have "walloped" me and made me release my grasp. Daddy, however, could not say no to me. He bought the lamb rather than endure hearing me cry. It cost him $12.00, which was not a cheap item in 1966. It was especially high dollar, considering my parents were farmers and had five other children besides me. It was not even my birthday or Christmas, but apparently, my father considered a day without tears to be cause for celebration.
Through the years, I watched my Prince Charming as he plowed fields, harvested corn, and fed livestock, with an eye to the weather and an ear to the farm markets. He was a Boy Scout master, church deacon, and Sunday School teacher, who made it to all the band concerts and school plays that time would allow.
There was only one thing in this world Daddy loved more than the farm, maybe even more than his own children; he absolutely adored my mother! I seemed to figure this out at some point, and eventually forgave them both. Still, deep in my heart, he was my first love.
Now, Mom is gone. The only time in my life I ever saw my father completely break down was at her funeral. It was so difficult, seeing my Prince in such unbearable pain, his body crumpled in that church pew, racked with sobbing.That was on a cold day in January. It was not until her birthday, in August, that he could bring himself to stand once more at her grave, his head lowered and one hand touching that dark stone.
Daddy is 84 years old now and has Alzheimer disease. He still manages to live alone in the same farmhouse where I grew up. He mostly sits in his recliner, in the living room where we danced all those years ago. I watch him now, as he stares out the window and I wonder how much longer he will remember me. If not me, will he at least remember Floyd Kramer's "Last Date" and a little dark-haired.girl, standing on his shoes?
"Dance with me, Daddy," I whisper. "Dance with me."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FB1SLip9BU
It is a feeling I am trying to convey. I suspect that if you ever stepped up on top of your father's shoes and gazed at him, as he whirled you slowly around, you know the feeling I am talking about.
I was probably four years old and I wanted to marry my daddy. I thought if he would just wait until I was his age(in a few years), then he and I could say "I do" and live happily ever after. I was sure my mother would understand and be tolerant of this bigamist arrangement.
Our family had one of those old LP record players, the kind that closes up like a small suitcase. The album was by Floyd Kramer; I was very fond of his song "Last Date". Daddy would start the music and take hold of my hands, as I stood on the tops of his shoes with my tiny feet. I looked up at his twinkling eyes, his smile washing over me, and I was sure he was "my fella". I knew instinctively he would always be here, young and strong, and he would always love and protect me. What girl could resist a Prince Charming such as he?
My mother said that from the start, I had Daddy wrapped around my little finger. She told me of a time when I was two years old and had found a stuffed toy lamb, on wheels, at the local hardware store. I could sit on it and make it roll around the room. This so delighted me, I refused to let go of it when the time came to return home. Mom said she would have "walloped" me and made me release my grasp. Daddy, however, could not say no to me. He bought the lamb rather than endure hearing me cry. It cost him $12.00, which was not a cheap item in 1966. It was especially high dollar, considering my parents were farmers and had five other children besides me. It was not even my birthday or Christmas, but apparently, my father considered a day without tears to be cause for celebration.
Through the years, I watched my Prince Charming as he plowed fields, harvested corn, and fed livestock, with an eye to the weather and an ear to the farm markets. He was a Boy Scout master, church deacon, and Sunday School teacher, who made it to all the band concerts and school plays that time would allow.
There was only one thing in this world Daddy loved more than the farm, maybe even more than his own children; he absolutely adored my mother! I seemed to figure this out at some point, and eventually forgave them both. Still, deep in my heart, he was my first love.
Now, Mom is gone. The only time in my life I ever saw my father completely break down was at her funeral. It was so difficult, seeing my Prince in such unbearable pain, his body crumpled in that church pew, racked with sobbing.That was on a cold day in January. It was not until her birthday, in August, that he could bring himself to stand once more at her grave, his head lowered and one hand touching that dark stone.
Daddy is 84 years old now and has Alzheimer disease. He still manages to live alone in the same farmhouse where I grew up. He mostly sits in his recliner, in the living room where we danced all those years ago. I watch him now, as he stares out the window and I wonder how much longer he will remember me. If not me, will he at least remember Floyd Kramer's "Last Date" and a little dark-haired.girl, standing on his shoes?
"Dance with me, Daddy," I whisper. "Dance with me."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FB1SLip9BU
