My Pop....

This is my dad....

when he was a young guy.

He grew up in the coal mining towns of

West Virginia.

His family was fun and provided 

love and support.

He joined the Army,

when he was halfway through 

his college education.

Afterward, he went back to school,

at West Virginia University,

and met my mother.

They married,

and had two wonderful children,

well....at least one wonderful one...smiles...

This is the wonderful one,

with her dad, grandmother and 

her grandfather holding her,

or pinching her, I can't tell which...

This is the one that is probably 

wonderful too...smiles.

It's just that he steals cars and impersonates 

cowboys too....so you never know...

My dad and I used to go to the steeplechase races

and drink champagne

and wear silly sunglasses...

and ties.....

(it was the eighties)

Now we simply marvel at the fact that we 

have lived this long and still love each 

other to pieces.....

Happy Father's Day, Pop!

Love you bunches

smiles...

Dinner with family....

This weekend we are celebrating my mother's 75th birthday. She is so cute, and it is very hard for me to believe that she is anywhere near her seventies. Of course this photo is a little dated. My son, father and David will all be here for dinner. What a wonderful tradition, to celebrate the day that a loved one was born. I know that everyone feels that their mother is the BEST, but my mother really is.....She stayed at home, cooked, cleaned, made us snacks after school, made Kool-Aid on hot summer days, allowed us to use her quilts and bedspreads to make "forts" in the backyard, led Girl Scout troops, camped, sewed, cut the grass, taught us how to ride a bike, made sure that I woke up to see the moon landing on TV, got me up in the middle of the night to see a meteor shower, tolerated my fashion sense, and allowed me to drive her car. She is my idol. She is the mother that I wish I could have been. She is now my best friend. We don't talk everyday, we are both pretty busy. But we know how to get in touch if we need to....
My mom's family call her "Bink". She never looked like a "Bink" to me. But they all love her and I assume this is a term of endearment. My dad is one lucky guy, and fortunately he knows it.