Dad had a little help from Grandpa, but for the most part he built our clubhouse himself. In hindsight, Dad was always so busy working we didn’t sometimes know or appreciate he actually had “dad skills”... Along the way we learned he did a lot of carpentry work for my Grandpa, who built many homes in Renton and the area, when he was a kid until he left for the war right after high school, class of RHS 1940.
This photo cracks me up. Dad as always when he's doing anything, totally focused. Me however, the next to (plum that falls not far from tree) and I’m not sure if I’m just spacing out gazing into future or a little impatient. “Is it done yet?” And there's my brother Steve, looking on. Simply excited we got a clubhouse almost!
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 had (have) something wonderful and unique to give and 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 if that weren’t so.
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