Happy Birthday Dad

It's one of my fondest memories I have of him from my childhood.

I exploded with details that day as he came home from work. I excitedly shook a quart sized plastic bag in front of him filled with four nails, four plastic wheels, and one block of pinewood. I said, Dad you gotta make me a derby car so I can win! It was typical for me to rush him with random requests at the end of his work day. Dad, can you oil the chain on my bike? Dad, can you drive me over to see where that smoke is coming from across town? No lie.

But this time it was Pinewood Derby race and I wanted him to help me WIN. The night before the race he worked tirelessly on that block of wood. Staying up all night at his workbench to make sure the weight, measurements, and other requirements were all met.

I was 9 years old.



Today, my dad turns 85 years old. He is in good health but much too fragile to respond to my random requests. He still remembers my pinewood derby car and how he carefully crafted it all night long on his workbench. And so do I. He recalled to me recently, I put graphite in the wheels to make them spin faster. We both just smiled.

That year I won first place in my grade level. And on that day my dad won first place in my heart.