But he's been gone for almost 19 years...and I miss him as much today as I did the day after he passed.
But it's his birthday (plus a day)...so I don't mourn...I celebrate!
He was quite a man...a funny paradox of a man at times, but still quite a man...
He was a man who:
Bought my prom dress without letting me pick it out...and he did ok...
Cried when I showed him my wedding dress the first time...
Loved his steak almost raw...and sometimes blackened on the outside...
Never missed when he shot his gun...
Loved a good glass of scotch...and red wine...
Told me the most perfect thing I had ever done was Ke$ha Barbie...
Sat a horse well but always rode with his elbows flying (we called it "doing the funky chicken")
Called beautiful women "chickipoos"...
Was loved by women and men equally (and by that I mean that he was friend to all)...
Could rope a calf as well or better than most cowboys...
Appreciated Baccarat crystal...
Could make a fried egg sandwich better than anyone...but couldn't really cook anything else...
Loved the Houston Oilers and Dallas Cowboys equally...
Had a lounger chair he refused to give up even though it was horribly ugly...
Spent Sundays wearing horrible jumpsuit things (in the 70's) and taking us for drives in the morning, and swims in the afternoon...
Loved the people who worked for him...even if he didn't always show it...
Drove every car like it was a race car...
Was more stubborn than a mule...
Had eyes that crinkled when he smiled...
Could speak Spanish better than most native speakers...he kinda was as it was his first language...
Taught me to appreciate good champagne and fine red wine (Jordan Cabernet was his fav)...
Always had a pen, his daytime planner, and sunglasses in his shirt pocket...
Was very handsome...
Survived a rattle snake bite...and polio...
Tried every diet known to man...without much success...but he was never obese...
Was always the life of the party...
Could sing really well...especially in Spanish...
Got lost almost every time he drove in San Antonio...
Was sentimental and had no problem crying in front of his children...
Had the most amazing laugh...and a great sense of humor...
Set pastures on fire with his car...
Taught me to be a lady and a fine hostess...
Once ate eggplant off my plate even though he professed to hating it...he had eaten all of his...
Won a world championship on his cutting horse...and she mourned his loss too...
had a bellowing yell that could scare the crap out of you...
must have done something to the Pi Phi's and Kappas at UT because many of them ask me if I am his daughter and then say "oh...."
Could usually be found wearing a cowboy hat...
was quick to anger...and not always quick to forgive...
Would watch "The Grinch" with me every year...
Died before he could know his grandchildren...which is a real shame...
sometimes made me feel like a failure...that I was never perfect enough (I've had therapy)...
Loved Baskin Robbins jamoca almond fudge ice cream with a passion...
Collected western art...and would often gaze at his paintings for hours...
was so very charming...
once slid across the flooded marble bathroom floor of a very fine French hotel...
Here's a photo of me and Daddy...it's actually a photo of a photo so the quality is bad...it's me with him in that ugly chair...
I like this picture...it pretty much sums up me and my Daddy...
Last night in his honor I cooked a meal he would have loved...me and The Cutest Boy in the World (TCBITW) had steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans...and chocolate mousse for dessert...
I remember the first time I had chocolate mousse. Daddy introduced me to the seductive chocolate silk treat when we were in Washington DC.
We flew up there because he had business. When we got to the hotel we were all in the mood for a bit of a snack. It was me, Daddy, Mom, my sisters N and S, and my brother B.
We checked into the hotel and as soon as we got to our suite I went to the window and opened the drapes...I could see the Capitol building from our room. It was dark outside so it was all lit up.
Daddy told me to look at the room service menu and choose what I wanted.
I saw: "chocolate mousse"...
but for some reason in my 11 year old brain it was "chocolate MOUSE"...
he told me to order 2...and then I placed an order for everyone else's choice...
When it came the chocolate mousse was served in a small bowl that was set inside a larger bowl of ice...
it looked like the most delicious thing EVER...and it was...sweet, creamy, decadent and oh so full of delicious chocolate.
Daddy pulled 2 chairs up in front of the window and we ate our mousse together while gazing at the Capitol building.
I remember it like it was yesterday even though it was 1976...April...
That trip is ingrained in my brain for that and many things...but mostly it is because that is when my beloved sister Susan came into our lives....we got the call that she was born and my parents rushed to pick up my adopted sister who may have been born to another woman but is as much my sister as those born to my mother...she is beautiful and wonderful...
By the time TCBITW and I had polished off our ribeyes and mashed potatoes I really didn't have room for the mousse...but I ate a bite for my dad anyway.
My birthday is coming up soon...whenever I wake up on my birthday morning I remember the time my father tried to sneak my Barbie Dream House into my room so that when I woke up it would be the first thing I saw.
The problem was he ended up tripping a bit and the 3 story plastic monstrosity (complete with elevator you pulled with a string) ended up falling apart a bit and he loudly cursed as he stubbed his toe on my bed. I woke up but I never told him....I just laid there silently in my bed while he put the thing back together with the help of a tiny shaft of light from the hall.
As soon as he left the room I leapt out of bed and tried the elevator...and I marveled at the love my dad had for me to make my dream house come true...
Years later my very sweet ex-husband bought me one of those ceramic Dept 56 light up houses that was the Barbie Dream House...I cried...and thought of my Daddy.
Every morning, well most every morning, I make myself egg whites "fried" in Pam and put it on those little sandwich rounds. I use a bit of light mayo, seracha, and light cheese. But I think of my dad and the fried egg sandwiches he would make for dinner on Sunday nights.
Of course he fried WHOLE eggs in BUTTER and slathered Miracle Whip on the bread and lots and lots of pepper and salsa.
They were fantastic. They were also just about the only thing Daddy could cook. But we loved Sunday nights when he would make our dinner and we would eat with the yolks running out of the bread and Miracle Whip and Pace picante sauce dripping everywhere.
Daddy loved spicy food...but mostly he loved his chile petins (or chile pequin)
A chile petin is a tiny itty bitty little chile but it has more fire in it's little berry (about the size of a lady's pinky nail) than a jalepeno does in the whole pepper. They are potent...not as strong as say a habenero but close.
Daddy loved to eat them with steak. A friend of his who was maitre'd at a restaurant in Kingsville even did a special steak sauce with them for my dad. He made hot sauce out of them and he often preserved them in vinegar or sherry. He also carried around a little pill box of them to enjoy when he ate out.
When we buried Daddy we did so with his beloved chilis in his pocket and his elephant hide boots on his feet.
Elephant hide boots?
Yup...
My dad was an expert marksman and once when he was on safari, back in the day when you hunted the Big 5 with a gun and not a camera, there was an old elephant that kept charging the game camp. He was dying and the game keepers determined that for the safety of all and to put the poor elephant out of his misery he needed to be "put down".
They came to my father and gave him the honor of killing the magnificent beast.
Elephants can be oh so gentle...but when they are sick...or old...or protecting their territory they can be scarier than a lion.
But Daddy accepted the honor and, even though he said it made him cry, he put down the animal so that all could be in peace.
He accepted a tusk (this was the 60's and ivory was still "ok") and it stood in our den for years. He used a bit of the hide to make his boots. Daddy believed in using all of the animal so we had a lot of strange taxidermy at our house...some of you may remember the lamps made from zebra legs and the water buffalo hoof cigarette ashtrays. I still have both...and thankfully I do not have the "gong" made from wart hog tusks...
So when we lost Daddy my stepmother charged me with the task of taking his boots to the funeral home.
I presented them to the director there and he questioned whether or not he could get those boots on my Daddy's swollen feet (he had been in a coma and had a lot of fluid).
My Dad wore an 8.5 EEE...and he had strange shaped feet so all of his boots were custom made.
I told the director "I don't care what it takes and what you use back there in those tools you have, you just make sure that when I look in that casket tomorrow I see these boots on my Daddy's feet!".
And yes when my sisters and I put the chilis in his pocket we checked and sure enough the boots were on.
My Daddy went to heaven in his elephant hide boots...and I sent my Mama to heaven in her Manolo Blaniks...very fitting for each of them.
Daddy always wore boots. Even to formal dress occasions...
Even with his white tie and tails for my wedding...and he argued with the tux guy endlessly until they called me and I assured the poor man that my father did not need formal dress shoes because he would walk me down the aisle in his boots....no matter what...as would my brothers.
My brother B looks so much like him that there are times I almost call him "Daddy" and at times I think I have a ghost at my front door.
Towards the end of his life my father suffered a lot of business reversals...gone were the private jets and trips on the Concorde...the fine artwork...many expensive cars...the ranch in Montana
A year or so before he died he once came to my office and took me to lunch. As I was getting out of the car he looked at me and said "I'm sorry Nicey...I failed you...". He had tears streaming down his face...
It broke my heart...
He looked broken...
I looked at him and said:
"No you didn't...and you never will...you are my perfect Daddy!" and I kissed him and got out of the car.
And the only thing he ever did to fail me was to leave me too soon...
And despite all the crazy...despite the doubts he gave me...despite the times I wish he had defended me when my stepmother unjustly accused me of something...despite his financial losses...despite sometimes making me feel like I wasn't perfect enough...
He was my perfect daddy...and I will forever be the little girl in his lap...in that ugly chair...watching the Grinch try to steal Christmas...
Inspiration Song: "Oh Daddy" by Fleetwood Mac. I don't think it's really about her Daddy at all...at least not in the sense I mean...but for this, it works...
Bye Darlings...I have lots of Daddy stories to tell...but I can't give them all away at once or what else will you have to laugh at! Remind me sometime to tell you about the time he blew up a deer...or about how he didn't learn to speak English until the first grade...
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