Dad aka Don G.

If one word could summarize my father it would be love.  He loved so much...life...family...cars...music...poetry...people.  But most of all, he loved me.  Every time I hear the song "Because You Loved Me" sung by Celine Dion, I always think of him...and sometimes I cry.  Even now, seven years after his passing, my thoughts often turn to him.  Then I smile.  That was what he did so well, he made people smile, and laugh.  Ask someone who knew my father, and a smile will come to their face when they speak his name.  I can't think of a better legacy to leave behind. 

My parents never married,  and they split up sometime during my first year.  In 1986 Dad found his special love, Rita, a warm and wonderful lady, recently divorced.  Dad was smitten, big time.  So much so that he devised a very special way to tell her, and practically everyone in Lewiston.  She worked at the local utility company, and one day she arrived at work to find a huge, hand painted sign attached to the building.  On a roll of plain newsprint, the bold black letters declared, "R-R-R-R-ita, Sheeeeta!  I loooove yooou!"  She knew those words, and knew exactly who had put them there.  Embarrassed, Rita walked into her bosses' office, full of apologies and offered to take the sign down.  Laughing, her boss told her no, he loved the sign, thought it was great and wanted it to stay up.  Rita argued that everyone would see it, and her boss agreed, precisely, then stated that people needed to see it. And so it stayed, at least for a few more days.  On August 15, 1987, Dad married Rita at a small outside ceremony held at my cousin's home in the country.  Everyone loved Rita, and we were all so very thrilled to know she was now a member of our family.

If there was one memory that stands out above all the times I shared with Dad, it was the night we decided to have a little fun with my cousin and his wife, who were entertaining friends on their boat.  Dad always had a huge supply of fireworks, not the safe and sane kind purchased at the local fire works stand.  Dad owned a used car lot...yes, he was a used car salesman.  Some of Dad's regular customer's at the car lot were members of the Nez Perce Native American Tribe, and Dad was always more than happy to take fireworks as part of a deal.  No, these were not the little cutesy kind of fire works.  These were the grand daddy of fire works; M80s (I think that's what they were called...) that could fill the night sky and leave you, mouth gaping open, staring up with awe and wonder. 

 

Everyone loves a good fire works show, and Dad and I loved creating them at his annual December parties.  One night, on the way home from dinner, we spotted my cousin's boat docked at one of the local marinas.  Lewiston is located at the confluence of the Clearwaterand Snake Rivers, and boating is a huge part of life here.

 

Well, Dad turned tome with a gleam in his eye, and a smile, and said, "Hey Dona, what say you and me grab some fireworks and go have a little fun?"

 

I grinned, and agreed.  Rita wanted no part of it, so we dropped her off at home, Dad grabbed his trusty box of fireworks, and we headed back down the road.  It was winter, and it was freezing outside, about 30 degrees but we snuck into the parking lot, then hid behind the rest room building, and started the show.  My cousin's boat was not a little runabout; it was a cabin cruiser, and a real beauty.  He, his wife and another couple were inside, eating dinner.  Dad and I were outside, giggling like children with too much time on our hands.  We started off with a few bottle rockets, strategically aimed just over the boat, to get their attention.  Every now and then a face would pop into a window, or out of the cabin door, only to disappear moments later.  Then we launched the M80s, the big BOOMer's.  A few minutes into the show, my cousin steps outside and looks around. 

 

We hear voices coming from inside the boat, then my cousin says, "Some idiot out here thinks it's the freaking 4th of July!" 

Dad and I were having fits, trying to be quiet while laughter erupted inside us, freezing our butts off, and fully enjoying the moment.

 

"Should we let them know it's us?" I asked. 

 

"No, not yet," Dad retorted as he lit another bottle rocket, which just happened to shoot right over my cousin's head.  "Sha-zaam!" Dad exclaimed quietly as my cousin ducked and went back inside the boat.  "Top drawer!  Come on, honey, let's get a bunch of 'em goin' all at once."  We each grabbed handfulls, set them up, and soon a huge battery of bottle rockets was screaming through the air in every direction.  In the midst of it, Dad added another M80 for good measure. 

 

Soon, both men came outside and my cousin yelled out, "Whoever you are, stop, or well call the police."  Dad let off a couple more.  "Jesus," I heard my cousin say, "that's it!"

And it was.  Still giggling, Dad and I stood up, stepped out from the building's shadow and into the light.  I could see my cousin's eyes roll up into his head as Dad and I stood there laughing.  "Is that you, Donnie?  I should have known," my cousin exclaimed with a roll of laughter.  "Who else would be out here shooting off fireworks in the middle of winter!" 

 

With a huge smile, he invited us in to the warmth of the boat to thaw out with some hot beverages.  Dad and I really had them going, and the memory of that night I will always cherish.