Saturday was my dad's birthday. Dad is an amazing guy whose intelligence is unsurpassed (for real) and whose sense of humor is so dry the Sahara is envious. He's a guy who would feel just as comfortable at a cocktail party with the New York Times editorial board as he would at an auction of hogs and heifers. His mother's family highly valued education and were some class of smart! He was his class validictorian and attended Cornell grad school. His father co-owned and ran a feed mill and farm supply store. Dad took his place after Poppa died and thus learned the chemistry, physics, psychology and sociology of dairy farming and farmers.
 |
| Dad takes on the beavers which attempted to, errrr, enhance the ponds on the property. |
In his retirement, his favorite thing to do is play with his grandchildren. His
second favorite thing to do is mow any of the hundreds of acres my parents own in their "Centrally Isolated" property in the Finger Lakes region of New York.
 |
| Spending time with a mere fraction of his grandchildren. |
In addition to being incredibly loving and patient and giving, he's also a bit quirky in his conversational style. There are a thousand ways to explain dad, but here's a good story that sums him up:
When we were kids - maybe 12 or 13 years old - my sister Heidi and I asked Dad what the word "fickle" meant. After pondering the best synonyms to offer us, Dad said, "Fickle means to be... perfidious."
Wow. Thanks, Dad! That totally cleared it up for us!
You gotta love him.
Phoebe, an awesome tribute to your dad. As my college grad heads off to be a dairy farmer, I totally get the dichotomy!
ReplyDeleteYou hit the nail on the head! A really great fella...
ReplyDelete