Today is my father’s birthday.
He would have been 62.
He died in 1983 at the age of 35 from ALS – Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.
I turned 35 two weeks ago, myself, and as I drank my coffee this morning, I pondered the various things that he had accomplished by the same age in his own life – a successful career, two daughters, a healthy and very loving marriage and a wonderful home in Cape Breton in the community he grew up in, with lots of friends and family nearby. I found myself feeling very small and sheepish and very, very lonely for him. I wondered to myself if he was looking down at me and what he would make of all of the silly misadventures that have brought me thus far in my own life. I like to think that he would have a chuckle and tell me to ‘keep on truckin’!’. Which is of course what The Saucy Milliner always endeavors to do.
I have many memories of my dad - aside from being very handsome with great chops, he was a very tall and very strong man. That is partly what kept him alive more than twice as long as the average 2 years that people survive with this terrible neurodegenerative disease. I remember sitting in a cardboard box and him pulling me around the house in it whilst I pretended it was the General Lee. I remember being taught that eating ketchup on toast is really quite delicious and that drinking out of the milk carton is OK as long as mom doesn’t find out. I remember him showing me how to eject an 8 track out and put a new one in on the dashboard of his Mac Truck cab. I remember riding on his Norton Commando with him and thinking that one day, when I was big enough, I would have to get a motorcycle of my own. I remember frequently fishing off of the old army bridge just down the road – up until the night it collapsed under the weight of a passing truck ( well, it really wasn’t supposed to last longer than the war…). I remember watching ‘Chips’ in bed with him, when he started getting more sick, as well as watching Star Trek, Three’s Company and Little House on the Prairie. I remember turning the pages of the bible for him when his arms had atrophied to the point that he could no longer move them and when he finally lost the use of his voice, he had to beckon me to do so with gurgles and moans. I remember frequent trips to the hospital in the back of the ambulance when things were bad and I remember my last visit with him there. I remember the night he died and my mom coming home and telling me that ‘Daddy was with the angels now and no longer in any pain’ and I remember visiting him at the funeral home to say goodbye. I remember someone at the service singing Amazing Grace, his favorite song. 
35.
I’m 35 and I am only just finding my career path. Again. I am only just feeling like I am making ties in my community and my family are 3,000 miles away. I rent an apartment I can barely afford and I can only dream of being lucky enough of finding a man who loves and appreciates me the way my father loved my mother.
And the Norton? Nope. (But I do have an Invisible Jet)
“Keep on truckin’, Kelly.”
“OK, daddy. I will. I want to make you proud.”
I reach out and turn the page…
..Exodus 20:12
Today I want to share two hats from my collection in honor of my dad’s birthday, as they were his. The first is an American made suede Cowboy hat by Henschel. My dad got this hat when he and his twin brother, my Uncle James (whose birthday it also, incidently, is) and my mom and some of their friends and family went down to Florida on a road trip after they found out he was sick. It’s a size small! I can’t believe that for my dad’s size, that he wore a small, but there it is. It barely fits me! The second hat is from when he was a driver for Coca Cola Canada. It’s very vintage and very cool. These hats mean the world to me and I am happy to be able to feature them as the first hats in my Hat of the Week entry.
I really could write heaps about how cool and how amazing my dad was, but alas, I must get to my day job.
Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, daddy.
Hope you are rippin’ it up, Caper style, wherever you are and that you are still rocking the very cool Wolverine chops.
I love you.
Before Wolverine....there was my dad. Check out those awesome chops.