There’s one thing I’ve wanted to say to you for years, Dad: You were absolutely right about Gunsmoke being a terrific TV program!

I know it seems like something small, but I ragged on you for years for liking a western when that kind of series was out of vogue.  Years later, when my brother and I would drive up to buy food for Mom once a month, we’d watch Gunsmoke each Saturday night after the local news went off (the ABC channel showed it), and I came to love its intricate storylines and its fascinating characters. You were right all along–Gunsmore was a great television show!

I also don’t know why we wait until someone is no longer with us to say the things we should. It’s a terrible mistake.

For instance, you used to give what I called “lectures” on things like how a car engine worked. They would take up to a half hour and would be boring, I thought, especially since you enjoyed telling that one in particular time after time. I’d always cut you off by saying, “Oh, Dad! Not that lecture again!”

Now I’d pay good money to hear you say it.

You used to listen to the guy up the road from our trailer by the hour. He loved that since he lived alone. Then too, when Randy’s friend stopped by from California and fell asleep on the La-z-boy recliner, you put a blanket on him to keep him warm. He later told Randy that he now understood why we were the way we are. He’d never seen such kindness before.

I see you in my dreams, and we talk for a while before I realize it is only a dream.  When I point that out to you, you say, “Well, it’s your dream!” just like you would if you were still with us. Sigh.

One time when I was visiting from out of town, I fell asleep on the couch in what we called “the middle room.” When I woke up, I realized it was really quiet. I looked, and I found you and Mom sitting on the back porch having a regular conversation. I’d never seen that before because, when the kids were around, we were always the center of what was going on, by your design.  I just sat and listened for a while because it was so reassuring to hear the two of you talking without me for a change. I know you kind of got mad at me for not telling you I was awake, but I still cherish that memory.

Randy and I grew up in a very quiet home, thanks to you and Mom. Other people had chaos and abuse and anger to deal with. We never encountered that. In fact, home was the calm in the middle of the storm of life. You and Mom made that happen. The only time you ever got loud was when President Carter would show up on the news. You’d yell at the television so loudly that I could never hear what he said. But I think that was the point, anyway!

You loved bow ties.  You’d get a kick out of the fact that Matt Smith wears them in Doctor Who.

If I’m very lucky, I’ll see you again and get to talk with you again. I miss you even though its been over 20 years now. I keep the old house key on my keyring just to remind me of you and Mom, who are together again now. I’ll never forget your generous nature and your kind protection of the rest of the family. I”m glad you were my father. No, you weren’t perfect. But I can’t think of anyone else who could have done a better job.

In your honor, here’s a clip from Gunsmoke:

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