Dad had a little help from Grandpa, but for the most part he built our clubhouse himself. In hindsight, he was always so busy working as a self employed musician we didn’t know or appreciate he actually had such practical “dad skills”. We'd later learn that he did a lot of work for Grandpa who built several homes in the Renton area. When he graduated from Renton High School in 1940 he entered the army and was off to WWII.
This photo cracks me up. Dad as always when he's doing anything is totally focused. Me however, leaning on the willow tree and gazing off into the unknown was often a little impatient. “Is it done yet?”
My brother Steve and I had so much fun in that little clubhouse. It was many things to us and a wonderful place under the willow tree, rain or shine. It was our hangout for playing army, cowboys, spies, and explorers. We ran a weekly neighborhood newspaper from here and played spaceships going to Mars. It was an outpost in the wilderness and a cabin in the mountains.
Our favorite times were in summer sleeping in it overnight then in the morning (Dad taught us how to get the BBQ going) cook our own bacon & eggs and whatever in a cast iron pan for breakfast. I'm sure Mom loved the messes we made...
Dad’s are whom they are and they all have something wonderful and unique to share. At this time in my life I am so very grateful my Dad was my Dad. We understand them one way as kids growing up, and now, in reflection, in quite a different way as adults.
Regardless if your Dad is alive or not, celebrate them. Dad’s aren’t and never were perfect, they're dad's. And we wouldn’t be here without them.
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