My dad was an excellent dad. He was a lot of fun and really enjoyed life and tried to remind me throughout my life that it was meant to be enjoyed.
I remember being quite little and climbing into my father's pickup truck. I remember riding in the middle seat and there was an 8 track tape player under the dash in the middle and I remember asking him to play the "squirrel" song. I have no idea what the name of the song was or who sang it. In my memory it is about a squirrel getting into church and running up someone's leg. I have no idea if that was really the jist of the song or not, but I remember wanting to hear that song every time I got in Dad's truck and I remember him abliging me, most of the time.
Dad also took us ice fishing. We would drive his pickup truck onto the lake (I remember Houghton Lake the most). He would set up the ice shanty, which we had to go into when our feet got wet or cold to warm up. I did not care for the ice shanty. We would get to play on the ice, ice skate, and investigate the island. Dad got to put tip-ups up for each of us, even if we were paying no attention to them. At the end of day my feet would be frozen, but I wouldn't tell him because I didn't want to be sent into the shanty. So I remember getting into the pickup truck, in the middle again, where the heater was on the floor and my feet would burn and hurt so badly while they warmed back up, but it was worth it to be out on the ice all day.
Dad was able to buy my kids their first pair of ice skates and ice fish with them as well.
Dad is not going to get the chance to teach Mackenzie and Isaac euchre, but he had a great time teaching them patty-cake, showing them how to fish and he did get to take Mackenzie for a few rides on the tube last year. He loved swimming with his grandkids (and encouraging them to splash Mom and Grandma). The one complaint that I will remember from him during his fight with cancer was that this summer he couldn't swim with the grandkids, but I will never forget how excited Isaac was each time he caught a fish and how he would run up to the cabin to tell Grandpa.
When I was at Notre Dame, Dad would often comment that if he had gone to college there that he never would have left and I totally believe it. Dad loved to learn. He was always reading a book, usually either something about history or a western, and was always willing to learn something new. I can remember watching him study for a pipefitters certification of some kind and realizing that I may actually use geometry in the future. As I mentioned earlier, he loved to have a good time. He also grew to love Notre Dame football. He got to see their undefeated season last year (we won't talk about the final game), which was perfect.
Dad got to see all of his children get married. He walked with Tina and I down the aisle in two very different but perfect wedding entrances and I believe that he enjoyed our receptions as much as we did. He knew at Michael's wedding that he had cancer and he went for surgery to remove it soon after the wedding. He did not allow that to dampen his spirits though.
This summer has been a tough one for all of us, but mostly for Dad. I am grateful for the time I got with him and the time that my children got to spend with him. I hope that he is happy, pain-free and peaceful and spending eternity at the never-ending college of his dreams.
I love you, Dad.
Your dad was an awesome guy. I loved how he was always joking around and in a good mood. I remember him and your mom driving together and all the drama that ensued, but it never seemed to change his mood. When Sean was about 2 or 3, we were at your house and he gave him a pocket knife. He said every kid needed a knife. I told him 3 year old boys don't need knives. He disagreed, laughing, and told me I needed to keep it to give him later because I would one day realize that he needed that knife. I kept trying to give it back but he wouldn't take it. I still have it.
ReplyDeleteI loved what you said last and I know the Irish have another angel up there helping tip the scales. Rest in Peace, Mr. Krotzer.