Here is one I wrote today as a tribute to Roy for Father's Day. 

Old Seven Dollar

Kay Seefeldt

When we moved to our Itty Bitty Dirt Farm in the late 70??™s after my
husband Roy retired from the US Navy. He fell heir to a barn full of
unidentifiable, valuable junk from the former owners.

Way back in the left corner of the barn was a rickety, broke lawn mower
trying valiantly to stand on three wheels. Looking at the old mower and
the expanse of hay that would become our lawn, and knowing we had a
combined brood of kids to feed, he scrounged through the junk piles to
find parts to repair the dilapidated machine. However, no amount of
digging through the random cultch could uncover the missing wheel. A 
new spark plug was required for the machine to run with gusto.

After a quick trip to the local farm supply store, Roy returned with
the replacement parts, a spray can of red paint, and a receipt for
seven dollars. Thus Old Seven Dollar was born and would practically
become a member of the family.

Over the next ten years or so, Roy and Old Seven Dollar beat back the
hay fields until they became proud owners of an ???estate.??? To complete
the job, man and machine spent a leisurely Saturday afternoon in the
sun.

After a bit of discussion, we decided that it really was time to
upgrade to a riding mower. Yes, you guessed it, Roy found a machine
that had been repaired by an elderly gentleman in his tinker shop. Old
Seven Dollar still had a mission: to mow the lawn patches directly in
front of the house that I hadn??™t converted into a weeping tree
collection and perennial garden. The riding mower couldn??™t maneuver in
and out of the narrow garden paths.

With this new toy, Roy began testing the limits of the hay field! Each
passing year expanded the perimeters of our estate.  A couple years
later, he announced, ???I stopped at Sears. They??™ve got a mower with a
bigger mowing deck. I could get the mowing job done quicker and have
more time for play.???  Proudly, he purchased his first new riding mower.
   I purchased a T-shirt for him to wear while riding it that
proclaimed, ???I Fought the Lawn, and the Lawn Won!???

Old Seven Dollar still had its mission of manicuring the area in the
front yard that wasn??™t a garden yet.

Eventually, Roy spent a full Saturday mowing our lawn that was taking
on the appearance of a country club golf course.  Occasionally, I??™d
take pity on him. ???How about a duel? I can mow more than you in an
hour!??? I chided. With both or us mowing, we could conquer the lawn in
under five hours.

When he began eyeballing the industrial strength mowers at Agway, I
suggested we sell our extra mowers or we??™d have to hire all the
neighbors to help us mow! Roy got the subtle hint.

Yesterday, he lamented, ???Old Seven Dollar is acting sick and won??™t stay
running. What do you think, should I buy new power mower without all
the bells and whistles to mow that patch or two of grass in the front
garden????

???What happened to ???Make do, use it up, wear it out???™ ???We??™re going to be
in the poorhouse if you buy another mower!??™??? I teased borrowing
expressions handed down by his frugal Wisconsin father and mother.

Old Seven Dollar, thank you for your many years of dependable service.
Even Roy believes you have finally earned your well deserved
retirement. There is a special niche in the left hand corner of the
barn just for you...May you rust in peace!

Kay Seefeldt
?©6/12/05

Kay has had numerous stories published on Heartwarmers, Petwarmers,
2theheart, and Storytime Tapestry: "Clover Alert," ???Second Chances,???
"White Rose Wreath," "Gull Trouble," "Beyond Cruelty." She enjoys
gardening, reading, writing, painting in watercolors, and teaching
watercolors to adults. She and her husband share their home with 6 fids
(feathered kids) and are continuously filling a variety of feeders
outside their windows for their "other fids" or mowing their lawn. She
thanks God for all the blessings in her life - great and small. 

  ~**~**~

 Memories

In memory of Elton Wilson Walker

Fifteen years ago this week, I was off work and at home for a weeks vacation.  Little did I know, while sipping my coffee watching the morning news on June 15^th, that my world would be turned upside down by the end of the day.

My step dad, the only Daddy I have known, since he and my mom married when I was about 4 years old, called me.  He said ???Angel, I am not feeling to well???.  I said ???well, do you want me to take you to the emergency room???, and he said ???yes, I think I should go???.  I called my sister at work and told her I was taking Daddy to the emergency room can she ride along since it was almost 50 miles away.  She went and picked him up from his house and headed to the hospital and I brought his dog back to my house and then headed to the hospital.  My sister said he smoked his cigarettes all the way there.

When I got to the hospital he was in the emergency room and hooked up to all kinds of machines.  We visited for about an hour and then he said, ???can you run back home and see if the mail has come and go deposit my social security check???.  We said, ???sure, we kissed him bye and said we would be back in a little while???.  The Dr??™s were going to run some test.

Well, we never saw him alive again.  He passed away before we made it back to the hospital.  We did not think it was anything serious or we would have never left the hospital.  To this day I still can??™t remember if I told him I loved him before leaving the hospital that day, because in my mind, we were coming right back.

We buried my Daddy on Father??™s Day. 

This morning while driving  to the vets office, my mind was just playing all my memories over and over in my mind.  Like the time he cut off his finger with a saw.  He had reached under the piece of plywood to see if the blade was turning.  I am sure this was not one of his finest moments.  He was always building something, mainly extra rooms onto our house which a couple of years later, for some reason, he would tear down.

I worked three jobs back then, and one was in the local grocery store.  My Daddy would drive 10 miles to town just to buy a bunch of onions, but mainly just to visit with me at work. 

He would come stay a week at my house and insisted that I have the movie channels activated so he could watch Showtime all day.  He could not get cable at his house because he lived in the country.

I miss my Daddy as much today, as the day he died.  I miss him saying to me ???you are not even dry behind the ears yet???, while I was in my late teens.  I miss his wisdom and his laughter.  He was always someone I could talk to about anything. 

I have been incredibly blessed in my life to have such a wonderful Daddy to guide me into adulthood and help me to become the person I am today.

Daddy, I miss you, but I know that you are in Heaven and happy and healthy.  Some day I will be coming home too, and what a joyous reunion it will be.

Angela Walker

karasaunt@yahoo.com

I have had stories published in petwarmers, Storytime Tapestry, 2theheart, write2theheart and fuzzywarmers.

 ~**~**~

Father's Day

Dianna Doles Petry

With only a few days left before Father's Day my own father has been crossing my mind on a daily basis. The advertisements on television show children giving their father's gifts of Bar-B-Que grills, matching shirts and slacks, tools, etc. The commercials make me think of things I gave my father as gifts when I was younger. I can guarantee you that none of the gifts I came up with were actually what he would have chosen for himself but he never complained and always acted as though I'd given him the keys to a new Rolls Royce.

I still have a few of the cards that I made him in elementary school. Looking at them now makes me chuckle out loud. I drew stick figure families with my father's figure sporting a long line from his circle face that represented his Parodi cigar. I thanked him for my new "Beatles" lunchbox and for fixing me a swing with the spare tire from his old Chrysler. I told him he was "wunnerful" for letting me have a dog that had my mother angry with him for weeks. I praised him for taking me on "pikniks" and for showing me how to make a grasshopper "spit 'bacca." I thanked him for everything little girls appreciate but I never thought to write him a note about how good it felt when he hugged me or when he told me that he was proud of me.

I thought he was the best fix-it man that had ever existed. By the time I was twelve-years-old, he had quite an extensive collection of screwdrivers, pliers, hammers and assorted nuts and bolts. There are still six hand saws hanging in my shed and I could not even begin to count the packages labeled "Made In Taiwan." What I should have bought him was band-aids for all the skinned knees he fixed and new shirts to replace the ones I ruined crying on his shoulder. I should have given him thanks for all the times he fixed things with my mother when I got my best clothes stained or brought "critters" into the house.

This is the time of the year when power tool makers and the people who make golf accessories go crazy with marketing ideas. Many fathers will be wearing clothing embellished with everything from Dragonball Z  to Kermit The Frog after the gifts are opened next Sunday morning. Ninety percent of the men in the country who are fathers will find themselves with handy dandy forty-in-one utility tools that they will have absolutely no use for...but they will smile anyway because their child took the time to bring it home for them.

When my teen years rolled around,  my father and I struck a deal. He already had a lifetime supply of Aqua Velva and there was no more room for cheap tools in his gigantic tool box. He didn't want anything to work with, (which I totally understand now), and he didn't need designer jeans. (I had started to buy him outfits thinking I could move him into the 70's.) What he needed and enjoyed the most was time with me.  He also mentioned that some good Hershey's chocolate would always be welcome.  I didn't realize until much later that it was me who loved the chocolate and he just loved to see me smile.

This year, if you're lucky enough to still have your father, please skip the George Foreman grill unless he calls you up and requests it. Skip the designer colognes, the neckties and even the fishing gear unless you are planning to pack a picnic basket and go fishing with him. Skip the material things altogether and instead, call him if you're away and tell him about your happiest memory with him. If you're lucky enough to live close to him, spend the day with him. Give him your time, it's the most precious gift of all. Of course, some of that time could be spent at a local steak house and I'm betting he won't complain!

If your father has already passed away as mine has, then remember the things about him that became a part of who you are today. Share those things with your children, your siblings or your friends. Father's Day is a small token to someone who plays such a major role in our lives. He might not have been a male fashion model or graced the cover of magazines and if he's the typical father, he never made it to the "Top Ten List of Millionaires" but if he gave you his best, he was a great father!

Dianna Doles Petry

?© June, 2005

Dianna59@charter.net

~**~**~

Fathers Day 2005

Dianna Doles Petry

Dear Dad,

Father's Day has rolled around again and I wanted to let you know that you're on my mind. Not a day goes by that I don't talk to you, especially when I take the time to unwind.

I tell you about the children; how they've grown up and all of the great things they do. I point out all the things that I see in them that remind me so much of you.

I tell you about mother and how far her mind has drifted away from reality. I even tell you about current events but I always seem to forget what's going on with me.

Maybe it's because I want you to be proud of me and what I do with my life these days. I often feel as though I've let you down in many ways.

I'm still here in the mountains just plugging along one day at a time, you see. I haven't lived out the dreams or the plans you had for me.

We used to talk for hours, you made me feel like I could do anything I dared to dream about. I keep trying, I really do, my plans just never seem to work out.

This last year has been a hard one, dad, as I've lost so many dear friends. I cry when I think they might be in heaven with you and I wonder if I'll see you all again.

I guess it's time to go now, but I couldn't let the day pass with the chance to say,

I wish you were here with me for just one more Father's Day.

Love to you, always,

Dianna

June 19, 2005

Dianna59@charter.net

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