But, boy-o-boy, I wish I could.
You see, I am a Pentecostal preacher’s daughter and dancing was considered…of the devil? I can’t remember the exact thing, but it was associated with sin and off-limits. Remember the the movie “Footloose?” Preacher’s daughter likes the bad-boy dancer and they plan a secret dance? Well, in that movie, the preacher gives in. Not so for me.
But oh how I loved the TV show American Bandstand with Dick Clark when I was little. My dad got rid of our TV in favor of more prayer and Bible study before I turned 6 (which was really good for reasons I shall write about soon), so sometime before that, I managed to get to watch American Bandstand with no one knowing. Rock music was out, too, naturally.
I have this memory of me in the living room on a Saturday evening, adults in the dining room visiting, eating. I’d been watching the Alfred Hitchcock Show and I am not saying it was condoned, but I don’t remember worrying about being found out. Anyway, it went off or I turned the channel, not sure which, but suddenly I am watching American Bandstand in 1966 in all its’ flip hairdos and pencil skirts and white sweaters and maybe a little twist going on.
I think I am alone. I lower the sound so as not to be found out. I start dancing like the teens on the TV. I am really in to it, so much so I spin around and –
The color surely drained from my face because there stood my Grandma Hallet. She had walked in on me. She saw me dancing. I just knew she was going to tell my dad and I would be in for it. Doomed.
But instead, sensing the depth of my mortification, she started waving her arms and bouncing her ample girth up and down and stepping a little to the right, a little to the left. While fear was still pounding through my ears, she, in an effort to put me at ease and act as though this were the most normal thing in the world, said to me, “Isn’t this great? Such good exercise, put to music!”
I retreated to the footstool, no courage to join her in fancy dancing.
I wish I’d have danced with my Grandma. What a silly little scaredy-cat I was. It makes me smile to remember her, covering me with a happy dance, though.
Every kid should have that kind of a grandma!
At Tara’s wedding, we somehow convinced my parents to dance and they liked it. So now, at pretty much every reunion, our whole family finds some reason to dance – even the parents. I guess my dad finally did give in, just not in time for me to figure it out. I am going to try to “encourage” square dancing at this reunion. It seems it would be fabulous fun!
pictured: My little brother Joe, my Grandma Hallet, and me when I was 3 1/2 or so.
He was pretty excited to have beat me. I only have 4 tomato plants this year and he has 3, but he got the first tomato out of the deal, a tiny, green sphere getting ready to turn into a gorgeous red tomato. Yum. We were so happy.
Then, to Gavin’s great excitement, we noticed he also had a pepper on his little sweet pepper plant. Glory be!
“I’m the luckiest boy in the world!” he told us.
Be still, my melting, proud, love-filled, gooey-sweet, this-kid-is-amazing heart. He gets the gardener in me because the same heart beats in him, too. Gavin and I were born to be sustainable-living-backyard-farmers. I am the luckiest Nonna in the world!
If you could see his eyes (I stink at photography), you’d know they were happy!
Hunter is at the most hilarious stage. He likes to make me laugh and will pose for pictures for me. I caught a few before he jumped in the pool recently. He loves pulling out his Kung Foo Panda moves. I laugh every. single. time.
In 3 months (the less-than-90 days between March 23 and June 19), we’ve had Dave-the-husband’s birthday, Amelie’s first birthday, Stormie’s quarter-of-a-century birthday (plus moving her into her first house-she is a homeowner!!), Tara’s super-early-30sbirthday and Mother’s Day. We had Stephanie’s birthday, Gemma’s birthday followed closely by Gavin’s lava’d birthday, Guini and Hunter’s Kindergarten graduations, Wrex’s birthday, Tredessa (28) and DP’s (30th) birthdays and Father’s Day. There have been 2 major Heaven Fest dinners and a couple of big-HF-family-meetings with all the trimmings and even Luka had a bday
The first grandson turned 8 and we all gathered for a happy-Saturday-morning breakfast-party. I used strawberry Jello for the “lava,” but even though in the trial run the actual liquid didn’t ooze out, but rather just red Jello-bubbles travelled slowly over the sides, no one wanted me to put more Jello in, afraid the donuts would be drenched in it, ruined for consumption. PLUS my dry ice melted down to 2 tiny slivers overnight. Guess I need a lesson in dry ice!!? Gav and I will have to try it again sometimes when there is no Jello-sogginess-concern. With LOTS of dry ice. A red explosion!!
Gavin’s dinosaur cake when he turned 4, I think, was sort of the beginning of my “cake adventures.” He keeps making life fun. Love that boy!
Wrote about his birthday:: H E R E. We did a double-celebration for him and Tredessa with a big Rhoades-family-Mexican meal. Cilantro rice and carne-asada steak tacos plus pulled pork green chile tacos and all the things that go with those. Dave wanted strawberry shortcake for his birthday. Tredessa had Lazy Peach Dessert (see below) for hers. Naturally Wrex performed a song for Dave and noted all his “famous” phraseologies (i.e. o-my-hinkin’-harry, bro-ham-and-cheese, etc) and even mentioned his penchant for v-neck tees. Stef is a master lyricist! Dave got the blessings and encouragements from the fam and Tara played him a most appropriate Brad Paisley song, “It Did.” [see here]
And she had a lovely birthday with him. I wrote her b-day blog:: H E R E. Then the double-celebration with DP. She got a song from Wrex and it was a little on the ornery side, which Wrex believes brothers should do. It was hilarious. It fit right into the tune of “Take Me Home, Country Rhoades,” if you can imagine. She is an amazing woman and in love, which we like.
Lazy Peach Dessert by Jane Hagelstein
From the October 1988 issue of Family Ties (the monthly newsletter of New Life Church of God in Norfolk, NE). But I actually have the handwritten recipe card Jane wrote it on. Beloved and quite in shambles.
My best advice for this in Colorado: wait until the western slope peaches are ripe and juicy and cause you car to drive itself to a roadside market where the scent and taste literally scream: DELICIOUS! Yeah. They just aren’t quite right, yet, these California peaches. Huh-uh. Nope.
Shortbread crust:
Combine 1 cup oleo* 1 3/4 cups flour 2 tablespoons sugar dash of saltLightly pat into glass cake pan (if you push it in hard, it will be tougher and less light and pastry-ish and amazingly wonderful). Bake it for 15-18 minutes in a 350-degree oven. Cool.
Peach sauce topping:
2 cups sugar 2 cups water 2 tablespoons corn starch 2 3 oz packages peach Jello 1 tablespoon oleo*In a saucepan, blend and cook water, sugar and cornstarch until thickened and clear. remove from heat. Stir in Jello and oleo until dissolved. Cool.
Assemble
Slice or chop 7-8 ripe peaches (sometimes I make them all beautiful and perfectly uniform. Unless they aren’t great peaches anyway…like this batch). Distribute over the top of the crust. Pour over the sauce. Put in the fridge for at least 2 hours (overnight is best). Cut into 12 servings. Top with whipped cream.
You may also make this dessert with canned peaches, Jane Hagelstien noted (so Nebraska) or use fresh strawberries and strawberry Jello.
*Oleo, for my dear children, was another name for “margarine” back in the day. Just use REAL butter instead and all will be well!
Complete wih a custom song for him by Dave and the girls to the “Wolfcreek Pass” soundtrack. Love this guy. There is not a more genuine, giving and generous man than Wrex. His parents did a great job, but if he were ever in the market for new parents, we’d apply for the job. He is just a cool guy. That is why God blessed him with the gorgeous Stefane and the two of them with the loveable kiss-kiss, Princess Sawyer. LOVE them all!
Dave chose his fav worship songs. We sang along to guitar accompaniment, all the current favs, but it morphed in to pulling out all those old songs from the years the kids were growing up. Pretty hilarious. Songs you never really want to sing ever agin, but in this context were pretty fun. “Lord, I lift Your name on high. I’m so glad to sing your praises…” Haha.
Artwork by the grandbebes, found the next morning. Mixed media:: chalk and stickers on concrete. Intrigued by the block that say, “Aim for the head,” and the stick figure identified as “dad,” albeit backwards, with a huge bunch of snot coming out of his nose. Haha.
NEXT UP: Summer starts June 21! Today! YEAH!!
Time to relax a bit with some lollygagging in the garden and floating in the pool and you know, a little thing called Heaven Fest. www.heavenfest.com
We made it!
Dad and me.
Two birds in a tree.
Both driven and bossy {but vulnerable and deeply sincere},
Choleric, melancholoy, always right and no fear
(at least not that we’ll let you see,
we puff and get growleeeeeeeey —–)
I got the rougher part of him, but also the best.
And I’m looking forward to all the rest
Of time, and love and laughter and lots more years with my dad.
A few years ago I asked my dad to write me a book about himself. Because it explains so much about me and helps me really see him for who he is and who he was meant to be and all he has accomplished and all he is still working hard to do. And I knew parts of it were difficult for him to reveal and I knew it was a risk for him to share because I can be judgemental. But my admiration for him runs so deep it hurts. My love for him just keeps increasing, year after year, season after season. As a little girl, I was always proud of him, proud to say he was my dad, and I was a little in awe of him and sometimes, really, kind of afraid of him. He was, after all, quite strong and powerful.
Young married (1957) to young pastor (1968)
What a surprise, when he wrote in the book he brought me, to find out he had fears that he’d worked hard to conquer. I didn’t think he was afraid of anything. How insightful to know there had been very hard times he’d lived through, things he’d never mentioned, that made my heart go out to the little boy I never knew. And how expected and natural the stories of God’s faithfulness, because that is the life he’d lived since 15 years old, and that deep consecration and devotion to God, I knew full well.
I consider the letters and cards he sends me these days, the quick calls from his cell and the book he wrote, love letters. From my dad to me. Messages that tie our hearts together, tied in a ribbon of remembrance. Treasure for a rainy day.
In my whole life, I have never wanted anyone else to be my dad. He is the one God knew I needed and he will ever and always have my heart.
See ya in 5 days!
They have a good dad. A great dad, actually. He has always given his life for them. He’d die for them. But more importantly, he lives for them. He loves them and prays his head off for them. He blesses them with his words and by his actions. He is energized by the house-full of them. And his love for their children? Has multiplied.
When he proposed to me, his first consideration seemed to be that he wanted me to “be the mother” of his children. I realize more than ever, what an honor I was being offered. Because this man? Loves his kids. He doesn’t coddle them and has never just wanted them “to be happy.” He has wanted so much more – they need to be living up to their full I-was-created-for-this potential. That is love.
Pictured: Dave with Rocky & Jovan; Dave & Tara; Stephanie & Tristan; Tredessa; Stormie
Dave got some play over at www.maydae.com too http://www.maydae.com/kids/raise-your-hand-if-youre-a-dad/
I couldn’t resist parading her senior picture out for her. East Des Moines High School, class of 1957. I get to see my mom (aka mommiekins, aka mamala, aka mommita, aka mammogram) in approximately 7 days, 9 hours, 47 minutes and 32 seconds…give or take an hour.
