Saturday, April 4, 2009

Well, hello from Marco Island!!  Some friends of ours from Chicago are letting us use their lovely condo on the beach for Spring Break (I know--we are really suffering).  So on Friday, my father loaded up his car with 8,000 saline syringes, 70 miles of gauze, a portable IV stand, a 35 pound box of antibiotics, a walker, a wheelchair, a scooter, and everything else necessary to keep me alive for the next week--and we drove over to Marco Island.  Doug and the girls came later and my Mom is coming in a few days. 

I could talk about the fact that it is Annika is turning 10 on Wednesday, or that I bought a New Balance shoe that has already changed my life, or that we have already been to the Urgent Care Center in Naples for a strep culture (negative--thank goodness), or that Elise can talk a mile a minute and play RummiKub all night long, but . . .

I would rather talk about my Dad.

My Dad has run two miles every other day for his entire life--never missed a day.  My Dad has called every member of his congregations on their birthday since he started his pastoral career.  My Dad finds everyone fascinating.  I don't think he has met a person he doesn't like yet.  My Dad has worn the same pair of swimming trunks since 1973 and still thinks of them as "new."  If you buy him a new pair, he will put them in a drawer for a "special occasion."  And . . . my Dad is the kind of guy who will load up his van with an obscene amount of stuff just so his daughter can have an encouraging week away from home.  Quite a special man.

My Dad is also a guy who does the same thing every day.  Same breakfast.  Same exercise routine.  Same mid-morning nap. UNTIL THREE WEEKS AGO . . . when he decided to grow out his beard.  Shocking.

I include here a picture of him as he appears now.  We are all debating where he should go next with his look . . . friendly mutton chop? a van dyke? what about a hollywoodian? What do you think?

Love to you all!

Anne