Don't Make Me Stop This Car

How many times did you hear that as a kid?

Growing up, our family car was one of those huge station wagons with the third seat facing backwards. The tailgate pulled down, not up, making it practically impossible to put groceries in without having to throw them which meant the Wonder Bread always got squashed.  I swear you could get lost in that car it was so big.

My dad loved to load my mom and us kids-- there are five kids in our family-- into the station wagon and go for rides on Sunday afternoons.  It was "free" entertainment in those days.  Back then gas was thirty-two cents a gallon.  (Why does the thought of thirty-two cents a gallon make me sound so old?)  We'd circle practically the entire county in an afternoon.  Our rides always ended up at the town's small air strip to watch planes land and take off.  I have no idea where those planes went or why they were coming to our community.  Seriously.  We lived in a really small town where the only excitement was watching planes fly! Yes, sitting in the grass at the "airport" was like watching paint dry but none of us ever complained because my dad enjoyed it so darn much.

Unfortunately for my dad, fifty was not the new forty.  He died of cancer when he was only 59.  It pretty much sucked and I mean no disrespect by that.  But "suck" is the only four letter word I can use to describe it since this is a PG-13 blog.  I'm still angry he was taken so young after such a hard fight.  It's been more than 15 years now and I have to admit, sometimes I still reach for the phone to call him.

I wonder what my dad would think of his four daughters today. Three of us are crashing through menopause like bats out of hell.  My brother, the lucky twerp, doesn't have to worry about hot flashes but I'm here to tell you he freezes his butt off when he's with his sisters in the winter.  We have every window in the house open-- and I'm talking about Ohio winters!  My baby sister has learned to "dress accordingly" and is bundled up so much she can barely bend her arms.

Funny though, my dad was a big guy and I never remember him ever being cold.  I can't even picture him in a winter coat!  As long as the thermostat wasn't cranked up with the windows wide open so he was "heating the outdoors", I think he'd probably get a laugh out of his girls fanning themselves like three blind mice in a freezer.

Today would have been my dad's birthday.... Forever fifty-something.

Welcome to TheFiftyFactor.com  - Joanna

If you liked this post you might also like my friend Jane's blog - Jane at the Garden Gate