MY EARLIEST MEMORY IS OF THE SMELL OF PAINT AND BEING HELD UP HIGH....MY VERY FIRST ONE..IS OF MY FATHER.....I LOVE YOU.
for my father 1942-2008

• for my father View
    by tellmekitty on April 18, 2008 at 18:31:39
  
  MY EARLIEST MEMORY......THE VERY FIRST ONE I CAN DRAG FROM MY MEMORY...IS OF THE SMELL OF PAINT...AND THE FEELING OF BEING UP HIGH..MY MOTHER WOULD LATER TELL ME THAT..WHEN I WAS A YEAR OLD THEY BOUGHT THE HOUSE ON IVAR IN TEMPLE CITY..AND THAT AS WE ALL WALKED INTO THE HOUSE MY FATHER HOISTED ME UP ONTO HIS SHOULDERS AND CARRIED ME INTO HE HOUSE. PRESUMABLY SO THAT I WOULDNT TOUCH THE FRESHLY PAINTED WALLS..I TELL THAT STORY TO MY CHILDREN BECAUSE I WANT THEM TO KNOW THAT SO MANY THINGS CAN BE THE MAKE UP OF A MEMORY... AND MORE THAN JUST PICTURES CREATE THE PHOTO ALBUM THAT BECOMES OUR PAST...AS I TELL MADISON AND KYLE ABOUT THEIR GRANDFATHER.. THE MAN THAT I KNEW AS A CHILD COMES TO LIFE , AND THEIR FACES BECOME THE CANVAS THAT I PAINT MY MEMORIES ON ...AND SO THAT I MAY SEE THIS AGAIN AND AGAIN..I TELL THE STORIES AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE...THE STORY OF THAT MOTOR HOME THAT MOM AND DAD HAD..AND THAT CAMPING TRIP WE ALL TOOK..I MEAN ALL OF US.. MY GRANDPARENTS MARY AND JOE G., MY MOM AND DAD, MY AUNT MARYANNE MY BROTHER, ME...AND THE BEAR.OR THE TIME WE GOT SNOWED IN UP IN BIG BEAR AND GRANDPAS 63 IMPALA SLID DOWN THE SIDE OF THE HILL WE HAD PARKED ON..OR HOW ABOUT THE TIME MY FATHER WENT ON THE BOY SCOUT OUTING WITH MY BROTHERS TROOP.. AND THEY RODE BICYCLES ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE BEACH.. I THINK HE WAS STILL COMPLAINING ABOUT THAT THE LAST TIME I SPOKE TO HIM..AND DID EVERYONE SEE THE SIDEBURNS ON HIM .IN THAT PICTURE OF THE T BALL TEAM... I NEVER LET HIM FORGET THAT WINING FASHION STATEMENTMY FAVORITE PICTURE. EVEN TO THIS DAY IS OF MY FATHER AND I AT ASCOT SPEEDWAY WHEN I WAS 17 ..IT IS EVEN NOW MY MOST CHERISHED PHOTO OF US ..BECAUSE “THAT’S THE SHINING EXAMPLE OF EXACTLY HOW MUCH OF MY FATHER IS INSIDE OF ME...ALL OF THOSE DAYS I SPENT WITH HIM OUT AT COMMUNITY CHEVROLET GETTING DIRTY UNDER THE HOOD. EVERY COLD NIGHT AT THE RACE TRACK PICKING CLUMPS OF MUD AND DIRT OUT OF MY HAIR..AND LOVING IT.!! COUNTLESS HOURS SPENT WATCHING CARS RACE ROUND AND ROUND.....AND ROUND AND.. ROUND.. THESE ARE THE DAYS THAT MADE ME HIS DAUGHTER..EVERY TIME I REACH FOR MY NIGHTLY GLASS OF ICE TO CHOMP AND CHEW TO MY HEARTS CONTENT.. MAYBE EVEN WHEN I REMEMBER THE LAST DIRTY JOKE HE TOLD ME.{AND THE DIRTIER ONE I TOLD HIM BACK}...EVERY TIME I HEAR A HOT ROD MOTOR THAT TICKLES MY BELLY..OR THAT SONG HE DIDNT KNOW THE WORDS TO..BUT COULD HUM ALONG WITH\\WHEN EVER I SEE A PERFECTLY CLEANED WINDSHIELD OR LAY A BET ON A HOT RED 3 AT THE ROULETTE WHEEL ..I WILL FEEL MY FATHER INSIDE OF ME... AND HOPEFULLY THERE IS ENOUGH OF HIM IN ME THAT I CAN GIVE SOME TO MY CHILDREN AND THEY CAN GIVE IT TO THIERS...MY EARLIEST MEMORY IS OF THE SMELL OF PAINT AND BEING HELD UP HIGH....MY VERY FIRST ONE..IS OF MY FATHER.....I LOVE YOU. for my father 1942-2008
  Fire,,, Bless You,,, what wonderful words,, I hope that i will have them when my Father passes.
  Kitty Hugs
  

• for my father View
    by tellmekitty on April 18, 2008 at 18:27:44
  
  MY EARLIEST MEMORY......THE VERY FIRST ONE I CAN DRAG FROM MY MEMORY...IS OF THE SMELL OF PAINT...AND THE FEELING OF BEING UP HIGH..MY MOTHER WOULD LATER TELL ME THAT..WHEN I WAS A YEAR OLD THEY BOUGHT THE HOUSE ON IVAR IN TEMPLE CITY..AND THAT AS WE ALL WALKED INTO THE HOUSE MY FATHER HOISTED ME UP ONTO HIS SHOULDERS AND CARRIED ME INTO HE HOUSE. PRESUMABLY SO THAT I WOULDNT TOUCH THE FRESHLY PAINTED WALLS..I TELL THAT STORY TO MY CHILDREN BECAUSE I WANT THEM TO KNOW THAT SO MANY THINGS CAN BE THE MAKE UP OF A MEMORY... AND MORE THAN JUST PICTURES CREATE THE PHOTO ALBUM THAT BECOMES OUR PAST...AS I TELL MADISON AND KYLE ABOUT THEIR GRANDFATHER.. THE MAN THAT I KNEW AS A CHILD COMES TO LIFE , AND THEIR FACES BECOME THE CANVAS THAT I PAINT MY MEMORIES ON ...AND SO THAT I MAY SEE THIS AGAIN AND AGAIN..I TELL THE STORIES AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE...THE STORY OF THAT MOTOR HOME THAT MOM AND DAD HAD..AND THAT CAMPING TRIP WE ALL TOOK..I MEAN ALL OF US.. MY GRANDPARENTS MARY AND JOE G., MY MOM AND DAD, MY AUNT MARYANNE MY BROTHER, ME...AND THE BEAR.OR THE TIME WE GOT SNOWED IN UP IN BIG BEAR AND GRANDPAS 63 IMPALA SLID DOWN THE SIDE OF THE HILL WE HAD PARKED ON..OR HOW ABOUT THE TIME MY FATHER WENT ON THE BOY SCOUT OUTING WITH MY BROTHERS TROOP.. AND THEY RODE BICYCLES ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE BEACH.. I THINK HE WAS STILL COMPLAINING ABOUT THAT THE LAST TIME I SPOKE TO HIM..AND DID EVERYONE SEE THE SIDEBURNS ON HIM .IN THAT PICTURE OF THE T BALL TEAM... I NEVER LET HIM FORGET THAT WINING FASHION STATEMENTMY FAVORITE PICTURE. EVEN TO THIS DAY IS OF MY FATHER AND I AT ASCOT SPEEDWAY WHEN I WAS 17 ..IT IS EVEN NOW MY MOST CHERISHED PHOTO OF US ..BECAUSE “THAT’S THE SHINING EXAMPLE OF EXACTLY HOW MUCH OF MY FATHER IS INSIDE OF ME...ALL OF THOSE DAYS I SPENT WITH HIM OUT AT COMMUNITY CHEVROLET GETTING DIRTY UNDER THE HOOD. EVERY COLD NIGHT AT THE RACE TRACK PICKING CLUMPS OF MUD AND DIRT OUT OF MY HAIR..AND LOVING IT.!! COUNTLESS HOURS SPENT WATCHING CARS RACE ROUND AND ROUND.....AND ROUND AND.. ROUND.. THESE ARE THE DAYS THAT MADE ME HIS DAUGHTER..EVERY TIME I REACH FOR MY NIGHTLY GLASS OF ICE TO CHOMP AND CHEW TO MY HEARTS CONTENT.. MAYBE EVEN WHEN I REMEMBER THE LAST DIRTY JOKE HE TOLD ME.{AND THE DIRTIER ONE I TOLD HIM BACK}...EVERY TIME I HEAR A HOT ROD MOTOR THAT TICKLES MY BELLY..OR THAT SONG HE DIDNT KNOW THE WORDS TO..BUT COULD HUM ALONG WITH\\WHEN EVER I SEE A PERFECTLY CLEANED WINDSHIELD OR LAY A BET ON A HOT RED 3 AT THE ROULETTE WHEEL ..I WILL FEEL MY FATHER INSIDE OF ME... AND HOPEFULLY THERE IS ENOUGH OF HIM IN ME THAT I CAN GIVE SOME TO MY CHILDREN AND THEY CAN GIVE IT TO THIERS...MY EARLIEST MEMORY IS OF THE SMELL OF PAINT AND BEING HELD UP HIGH....MY VERY FIRST ONE..IS OF MY FATHER.....I LOVE YOU. for my father 1942-2008