Congratulations Pop

This post is for my dad, who most of those close to me know I call Pop. This coming Tuesday will mark my dad's last day of work. After many decades, he's retiring. He'll be 67 in November (hope you don't mind my broadcasting that, Pop), but he doesn't look it and he sure doesn't act it. I'm pretty sure my dad probably started working more than 50 years ago, and he hasn't let up since.

In fact, the point of this post is to thank my Pop, on many levels. For starters, he worked his tail off our whole young lives to support my sister, brother and I. I remember days where he would work two jobs, come home and take care of us kids because my mom worked nights at a local department store. He'd get us fed, get us ready for bed, pile us into the car in our PJs, go pick up our mom (we only had one car, of course) and the whole family would drive home and pile sleepily into our beds. I was very, very wee when this was going on, but it's one of my earliest memories. I remember the sleepy dreaminess of driving through the dark streets with my whole family in the car, snuggled into my warm pajamas, probably with my hands clutched around a stuffed animal. I felt so safe and so happy with all of them there. But I know now, especially since I've had kids, how much work that was for my Pop (and my Mom, of course), how long those days were, how much he probably would have loved to come home and sit on the couch and watch TV. Growing up, my dad often worked more than one job to make ends meet. It wasn't something I ever heard him complain about. I don't think he even thought twice about it. He had a wife and kids and bills to pay and food to put on the table, and he just did what had to be done. I'm tremendously proud of and honored by my dad for doing that.

The other thing is that, by those actions, my Pop taught me the meaning of hard work. I'm sure I don't do it with half the grace and stoicism that he did, but I do know how to work hard. That's not the kind of thing you're born with, I don't think. You learn that by a really excellent example being set. And both my parents did that for me. So thank you, Pop ... you can't imagine what that's done for me in my grown-up life. Or maybe you can, but I'm glad as hell that I've got that.

So I really can't imagine what my dad will do now. I know he'll be even more of a dedicated Starbucks customer (the giftcard will be in the mail soon, Pop). I think he'll do some fishing. He'll probably watch more Fox News and maybe we'll have some good political debates. Maybe (hint, hint) he'll get a wild hair and decide to come visit the Scott Brothers of Dallas.

Whatever you do, Pop, I just wanted to write a little something to tell you how much I love you and how proud and thankful I am of and for your lifetime of hard work. Happy Retirement ... I sure hope you enjoy every second of it. You deserve it. Love you, k.