My Dad, a Really Good Sport

One of my dad's most endearing qualities is that he's a good sport.  That's my dad!

When we were growing up he had lots of opportunities to practice this grace.  Take, for example, the day my folks were going to drive a carload of CYC kids from the church to Camp Casey for an overnighter, but while Dad was at work the 18-month-old twins had filled the gas tank with rocks! When the car wouldn't run, Dad unloaded his work van and piled the kids in, assigned each one his own bucket to sit on, and away they went!

He would turn his handkerchief into a mouse in church and entertain us when we had trouble sitting still; he'd put his thumb in his mouth and "blow up his muscle" like a balloon; he helped Tom build a tandem bicycle in the family room.  He has always been adaptable and available, all part of being a good sport.

Even now, if one of his kids has a project that needs to be tackled, he'll be there to help.  He's carried his 40 pound tool box to Boston and Juneau, he's built apartments, installed counter tops, painted and done yard work for us, just because he's our dad and he loves to help us.

Dad is wiling to try new things.  A few years ago Samuel brought home virtual reality goggles from church.  Dad and Mom came over and Samuel convinced Dad to put them on his head, then guided him to the driveway where Dad tried to orient to the world of virtual reality.  With each misstep he would smile or laugh and keep on trying.

He's provided thousands of miles of transportation for his kids and grandkids, to and from the airport and on road trips, and always without complaint.  He has faithfully carried out his calling to care for his family with grace and humor.

Papa, on behalf of this group of goofballs that you are raising, I'd like to thank you for being our Dad, our Gramps, and a really good sport.