Sunday, June 19, 2011

Fathers Day 2011

It has been eleven years since  I was able to actually celebrate Father's Day with my own father.  The difficulty of these sorts of "holidays" is fading with time and I find myself remembering my father more and grieving less.  Today, however, I found myself thinking of the other fathers that have meaning for me as well.

Pat Boyette 1923-2000

My father, Pat Boyette was born in San Antonio, Texas to Aaron P. and Phyllis Giles Boyett.  He went to Edison High School and had careers in radio, television and comic art.  I think the thing he enjoyed the most, however, were my two children.  My father was a self-made, well read man -- he didn't read me stories at night -- we discussed Egyptology.  He would build kites for me, help me school "issues" -- projects, long division, and photo journaling.  I had a colorful, non-conformist life with my dad -- no 9 to 5 here -- and I loved every minute of it.  I mean, how many kids in San Antonio, Texas had fathers who made movies? 

Aaron P. Boyett, Sr.   1898-1956

My grandfather, Aaron P. Boyett, was born in Sabine County, Texas in 1898 to Robert E and Clarissa Abi Conn Boyett.  Even though I didn't have him in my life long and I didn't see him on a day to day basis, I adored him and I do have memories of him.  I remember the last Christmas I had with him -- he bought Marla and I big pandas and I got a tricycle.  The one memory that I have that is clear as day is of him laying on my bedroom floor coloring with me.  I swore I was going to keep that picture forever but it somehow got lost -- but I remember it and that is what counts.  He was affectionate and wasn't shy about planting big, sloppy kisses and giving big bear hugs. How I wish I could ask him questions about his life -- ah, the plight of all family historians.

James William Davis  1896-1969

My grandfather, James W Davis was born in 1896 in Scranton Pennsylvania to James W. Davies, Sr and Dinah Sophia Webb Davies, Welsh immigrants who came to the US a mere six years before my grandfather was born.  Short in stature and gruff in nature, my grandfather -- PaPa -- wasn't one to be outwardly affectionate with his five granddaughters but there was never any doubt that he loved us. I didn't cross him (don't slam that door again, Melissa) but he was a mainstay in my life.  I remember so  many snacks of Welsh rarebit that I would share with him at the little kitchen table (which I still have) and listened to him give me good advice and lessons.  I particularly remember one morning following him around the back yard helping him pick up pecans.  He was picking them up but I was busy re-planting them in the flower beds.  They were still coming up, from time to time, when I was grown.  He was stable and dependable and we always knew that if we ever needed him, he would be there.  He may grump about it, but he would be there.

Allen Brinkley

Allen Brinkley, born in 1947 in San Antonio, Texas to James Otis Brinkley and Helen Marguerite Bordovsky. He was my high school sweetheart, soulmate, love of my life, my rock and the father of my two precious children, Brandon and Brianna.  Oh yes, and the best grocery checker HEB ever had!  Allen has never failed me or the children, he is strong, determined, deliberate and always there for us.  I couldn't have asked for a better father for my children or husband for myself.

Brandon Brinkley

My son -- handsome, caring, compassionate, kinda goofy sometimes in a good way, strong in his faith and  the joy of my life.  It is an indescribable feeling to watch your son become a father.  Watching him with his infants, I was transported back to his infancy and all the hopes and dreams I had for him.  I haven't been disappointed.  He grew up well and is everything I had hoped he would be.  He also gave me a wonderful gift in the persons of my precious grandson Nathan and granddaughter Kathryn and the opportunity to watch it all over again.  I do recognize that this is a high school photo but I was having a difficult time trying to find a more recent one that didn't include children, food, gift opening or something else distracting.  But trust me, he still has his hair and he looks pretty much the same. 

Chris Wilcox

Chris Wilcox -- my son-in-law -- born in Hampshire, England to Chas and Barbara Wilcox. I couldn't have asked for a better husband for my daughter than Chris.  His quiet reserve is a perfect complement to her bubbly personality -- he is strong and calm and logical (stay calm and carry on!) and they have done well in forging their little family   --  which was, of course, made even better by the addition of our precious, sweet Caroline (yes, I know it is a song) in 2010.  Watching Chris with his  daughter  is really special - it is fun to watch this long, tall drink of water and this little Bean of a girl together -- of course, nobody has told him that he is tightly  wrapped around one tiny little finger but that is ok -- they are doing great just the way they are.

So, these are the fathers in my life.  They all have a special place in my life and in my heart and they always will.  Happy Father's Day!