Remembering Dad, the best example a kid could ever have

He made each of his five kids feel special, each in their own separate way

Amazingly, Dad made all of his five kids feel that way as they were growing up, surprising us on birthdays and at Christmas in ways we could never have imagined. Not with gifts born of money, but of a thoughtfulness and imagination that showed how much he loved us.

I have written about my dad often and I usually have had something to say about him on Father's Day as well. Today is no exception.

Dad was my earliest and only hero and remains so to this day.

Sometimes on Father's Day, I'd just pull out something I had written the year before and repeat parts of it since my fondest memories of dad have never changed since we said our last goodbye on December 8 of 1987.

He was 76 years old and the proud father of five.

Erin, Bob, Ted at Castle Crags in Shasta County

Dad had been hospitalized and in a coma for 13 days before he passed away, and during those final days he had many visitors, both family and friends, who held his hand or soothed his brow or softly sang him his favorite Irish songs.

We all assumed, as many did during those days, that he likely was unable to process or maybe even hear the words being spoken around him in that hospital room.

One day, while I was alone with dad in the ICU, our local parish priest, Father Andrew Coffey, came to pay what would be his final visit.

"Dad," I said clearly, trying to put as much cheer in my voice as I could muster in this sad, sad time, "Father Coffey is here to see you. He wants to know why you haven't been coming to Mass."

And my dad giggled.

He had been with us all along.

(L-R): Emme, Maev, Molly, Mick.

Throughout our many years together, dad and I shared our love of Oregon State, his alma mater. If he was rooting passionately for this team, by osmosis I was too. You could call it a heart to heart transfer of affection.

So, when our beloved Beavers would come to play football at Cal or Stanford, Dad would take me by the hand and off we'd go with homemade sandwiches to Berkeley or Palo Alto.

As a five-year-old, I assumed these were the only places where Oregon State played football. I had no idea that the Beavers had their own stadium in Corvallis, a place I had never been.

I also assumed from my limited experience attending those games in Berkeley and Palo Alto, that everyone in the world rooted against Oregon State.

That thought only intensified my love for the Beavers.

I remember one spring day as an eight year old when I woke up knowing that Oregon State's baseball team was visiting UC Davis - then known as the California Aggies - for a 1 o'clock baseball game that I would miss because it was a school day.

Around lunchtime, a teacher tapped me on the shoulder and said I needed to report to the principal's office. Had I done something wrong, I wondered.

I was greeted there not by the principal, but by my dad, who handed me an Oregon State baseball cap and said "Let's go."

He told me that the bat boy was required to wear the same hat as the team.

Indeed, he had gone to campus that morning, located Oregon State's coach and suggested that his eight-year-old son would make an ideal bat boy.

I still have the "OREGON STATE MODEL" wooden baseball bat that had been used during the game and given to me afterward by the kind Beaver head coach.

I could have died and gone to heaven.

Dad had an amazing way of making all five of his kids feel as I felt on that day.

Out for the night: (Bob has no idea which one is which)

As I wrote in The Davis Enterprise several years ago, these were "Not gifts born of money, but of a thoughtfulness and imagination that showed how much he loved us."

I further explained in that column, "One year, birthday cards started arriving in the mail for me from distant places. One card had the signature of every member of the New York Giants, including Willie Mays. Another had all the signatures of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Another the St. Louis Browns and another the Washington Senators.

"Within three days of my birthday, I had them all. The Redlegs, the Cubs, the Braves. Mickey Mantle, Moose Skowron, Whitey Ford, Jackie Robinson, Gus Zernial and my favorite of favorites, Ted Kluszewski.

"Dad had written them all letters explaining his plan and had included a birthday card for each to send back." 

I concluded, "Dad taught me to pursue those things that would make me happy, not those things that others presumed would make me happy. It's a wonderful, wonderful lesson to learn.

"The woman of his dreams and their five children were all he ever wanted, and the gifts he gave them - gifts of hope and laughter and kindness and endless backyard baseball games - will truly last a lifetime."

(L-R) Trying to sleep: Emme, Molly, Maev, Mick

So on this Father's Day, as I think of my dad, I realize that his dream has become my dream.

I, too, am married to the Red-Headed Girl of My Dreams, with six kids and six grandkids. Enough for our own football team, plus a punter.

Erin and Ted - all grown up

This is all I ever wanted to be. A husband and a dad and in love with my Sweetheart and our kids in a way I didn't know was possible.

(L-R): Bob and Shelley with Emme, Molly, Mick and Maev at the Drive-Thru Tree in Leggett

On this day, I thank my dad for showing me the way.

Game Day in Corvallis: Shelley and Bob, with Molly, Maev, Emme, Mick

You can reach me directly at bobdunning@thewaryone.com

(I have included a couple of favorite photos of those kids I am so fond of.)