"Where's My Dad?"

In 1982, my children and I suddenly became a single-parent family. From the beginning, my goal was to keep the four of us as close as possible, with the same goals that had always been my prayer.

Church would be of paramount importance.  So would family, music, and sports.  

To be perfectly honest, sports had not been really important to my children's father.  Becca had already developed a love for softball and had enjoyed playing on the Christian school team, using her uncle Lester's glove.  He had given it to her because they are both left-handed.

Tray's older cousins, Chad and Brad, played Little League, and he could hardly wait to join them. In the spring of 1983, he did just that. His sisters and I were so excited. We even purchased shirts with his name on the back.

Tray played ball throughout elementary, middle, and high school.  He's now almost 50 (a year shy), and he loves going to watch his nephews play.  He rarely missed one of Grace's tennis matches or being at one of Reagan's cross-country meets.

There is one Little League game that stands out in my mind.

It was midsummer. Tray was 10, Renee was 13, and Becca was 16. It was time for them to go to their dad's for a month. It was also time for the All-stars. Tray had made the team, so their dad agreed to pick them up after the season ended. He would be in Jacksonville for the final game.

And, as it happened, this would be the first and only time that he would see Tray play.

The game was tied.

Now, Tray was a fast and feisty kid who loved to steal bases.  And so it was that with the game tied, Tray got on first and stole second. The batter got a hit, and Tray made it to third.  One more batter and Tray crossed home plate.

Now, I had been to all his games, but who's counting?

Who do you think Tray looked for as he scored?  You guessed it.  

"Where's my dad?"

As I look back on that day, although I know that I am loved much by my children, I also realize the importance of a father in a child's life. 

And I am grateful that through the years, although my dad, my brothers, and many dear male friends helped me raise them, I think my children loved their father, despite being miles apart. That was seen when he suffered a life-ending disease five years ago.

This is about the importance of a father in a child's life. It is not intended to be an absent father bashing.  It is instead meant to be an encouragement to any man who has stepped away from his marriage and children to find a way to be a part of those children's lives.

And in all fairness, there were times later in our children's lives (graduations, weddings, dedications and events that featured our grandchildren) that Ray Parker was present.  I really believe that especially in the last 21 years of his life, his wife, Ruth, was very instrumental in that.

This is Tray's 23rd Father's Day. 

 He's a good daddy... he got that from Earl Huffingham!

                                     May you have enough sunshine in your life 

                                            to help you appreciate the shadows

My "oldest" friend

 Here's a riddle:  Who is the youngest AND also the oldest?

She was born in 1937, the youngest of the six children of Iva Pauline Mercer and Ellie Wallace Nesmith.

I recently learned that Pauline's mother was not happy that another baby was going to be born to her youngest daughter. In fact, Pauline had made an effort to hide the pregnancy from her mother. Marianna Mercer's attitude changed, however, when she learned that the little girl shared her middle name.

Pauline Elizabeth Nesmith was born on June 14, 1937. My mother was 14 years old.

I don't remember life without her. Aunt Beth is ten years older than I am, and I would say she is my oldest friend.

So there's my answer to the riddle.

My first memory of her is my third birthday. I remember we played a game, and I recall her skirt twirling as we moved in a circle. I can almost hear the "swoosh," and I know there is a photo of those moments.

I think my mother gave her a surprise "sweet sixteen" birthday party. I remember one thing from that event: I was surprised to find it still for sale on Amazon, but I checked too late to get it to her this year.

Just four short years after that birthday, Aunt Beth married Uncle Bill, and thus began the rest of our lives living many miles apart. And yet we have remained very good friends.

I believe it was Aunt Beth's idea for the five Nesmith sisters to write a book about their lives. Later, Aunt Carolyn's granddaughter, Lucy, did a documentary about their stories. And at some point, one of the sisters decided that they should create an album in which each could share what her sisters had meant in her life - and they gathered stories about their brother, Rudolph, who was killed in World War II.

Aunt Beth loves to meet a friend for a visit. We have enjoyed many fun and sometimes deep conversations over a cup.

We were together a few weeks ago when she asked if I had given any more thought to writing a book about what to expect as we age. My mother had written something about how it felt to be the recipient of care. Sometime ago, I commented about being hers and Aunt Ann's "caregiver." She was not impressed with my choice of words until I said, "All it means is giving care to someone I care about."

So I've been working on a book about adjusting to being the person who is cared for. This is not a special birthday for Aunt Beth, unless we note that it marks the beginning of her being a nano generational.  Those are not well=known words.  She has one ore year as an octogenarian - which I'll be headed to when I have my 79th birthday next month. 

 And as always, I'm going to depend on her to help me know "how to act", "what to expect from others," and how to react!

She's always been more like a sister (to me and my cousin, Ellie),  and I doubt she likes to hear that she is anyone's oldest anything! However , "Happy Birthday to the youngest Nesmith daughter who is also my oldest friend."

                                      May you have enough sunshine in your life 

                                            to help you appreciate the shadows