Happy Birthday, Dad

My dad at 19 years old. Brand new to California, 

and contemplating just how big that ocean is. 

He always hated the beach..........

Today would have been my dad's 86th birthday. His name was Norm Newberry, and he was a good, hardworking family man from Nebraska. At the age of 14, his own dad suddenly passed away, and even though he wasn't the oldest of the brood, my dad always felt that it was his responsibility to care for and support his large family. His mother, my grandmother, was able to keep the family relatively stable until dad graduated from high school, but shortly after that, the family moved to California. In his heart of hearts, he was always a Nebraska boy, and would have loved nothing more than to raise us in his home town of Alliance. His own father would have been so proud of the man he became.

Dad was from simple stock. The family wasn't wealthy, nor did they possess myriad advanced degrees, but they made a good way by working hard and doing what was right. I haven't been a 'Newberry' for nearly 40 years, but I still carry the lessons my dad taught me. He wasn't perfect, but he passed along so much and I do my best not to embarrass him. The older I get, the more I appreciate those simple homespun lessons I learned from my dad.

He was a dental lab technician, and most mornings, when I got out of bed as a child, he was already gone for work. He also ran a 'side business' in order to support us and that kept him working at the kitchen table until long after I went to bed. I remember on a few occasions that I insisted I could keep pace with him and stay awake until he finally retired for the night. So I sat across the table talking with him until finally falling asleep with my face buried in the last thing I was trying to eat when I finally gave in. He taught me the importance of working hard and earning my own way.

He was pretty stubborn, and I think that was what made him capable of handling the sometimes huge challenges that life handed him. When I was in eighth grade, he and my little brother were in a serious car accident. Dad spent months in a hip cast with pins in his leg before transitioning over to a leg brace. While he was still in a wheel chair, he lost his job. So with a family of five depending on him, he started his own business full time. He turned part of the bonus room upstairs into a dental lab while still in a short cast and later in the leg brace. He did all the construction, plumbing and electric required to create the lab all by himself and that same lab served to support the family until he finally retired in his sixties. Occasionally he would express his frustration at the situation, but he never bad mouthed the dentist that had let him go at such a difficult time. 

Dad was an excellent listener, and often got to the point of what we were trying to say before we even knew what the point was. He taught me how important it is to make a conversation a two sided affair. Never let things end until asking the other person how they are and listening to the answer. Nothing is more hurtful and frustrating than talking to a person for a long time and not once having them ask about you and your family. Like they're the only important ones in the conversation and you really don't matter. It happens all the time in our egocentric society. I work hard on this one. I want people to know that I care and I'm so thankful when they care enough to ask about me and those I love.

Dad also liked a good debate and would often say the most bizarre things to spark one. Unfortunately, at the time, I often didn't catch that they were merely verbal challenges 'to make us think' and would actually think he truly believed in what he had just said. Of course, it set me up perfectly. He was an amazing wordsmith too, so I usually walked away from the conversation scratching my head and wondering what just happened. My little brother inherited this talent with words and the ability to reason me around the corner into a state of complete confusion. My daughter recently shared the label 'high functioning blonde' with me. I'm not a blonde, but it fits. 

My dad enjoyed "dad-ism's" that we heard often growing up. "How are you, Norm?" To which the answer was always "I'm pregnant!" If we inserted ourselves into a conversation and asked who he was talking about, he would answer "Who? Who? Your feet don't fit a limb!" I spent so much time trying to figure out what a 'fitalim' was that I was into adulthood before I really understood what he was telling me. I think that was much kinder than telling me to stop being nosy. Even in the last weeks of his life, when he could no longer be understood when he spoke, was in terrible pain and confined to bed, dad was still full of the dad-ism's. I was able to pass along the answers to the questions being asked simply because I had heard them so many times over the years. He body was failing fast, but his sense of humor was just fine.

It was my honor to help in my dad's care in the final months of his life. He gave me so much and it was a gift to me to be able to give back dignified loving care. With his family surrounding him, praying and citing Scripture, and in his own home, his life on earth came to a close. Dad didn't like moving, and when he and my mom moved into the little house in which he died, he commented that he'd only leave that place 'feet first.' That's exactly how he exited the last time. In the time that he did battle with the cancer that eventually took his life, he never complained. And at every opportunity he expressed his gratitude for what was being done for him. Amazing. Simply amazing. 

I can't believe it's been over ten years since his death. He was a life long smoker and lung cancer finally had its way with him. My oldest daughter had the privilege of christening his 'grampa name' and he was tagged 'Papa' early on. Since he's been gone, four of his six grandchildren have married and brought a total of nine great grandchildren into the family. Number ten will be here in just a few weeks. Dad loved kids, and he was better with babies than most women are. Nothing would have made him happier than to have had a houseful of them. I so wish my son in laws and my grandchildren could have known him. 'Papa' was a good guy. 

I wish you could have known him too. He wasn't perfect, and could be a bit curmudgeonly at times, but he was genuinely nice and I guarantee that he would have made you comfortable and given you a reason to smile. My ultimate example in life is my heavenly Father, and He is the One I seek to please. But I have a pretty great legacy from my earthly father too. I always try to stay mindful to live up to both, and by God's grace, sometimes I'm able to. 

Tell those around you how important they are to you today. Tell them how much you appreciate and love them. Time goes by too fast, and before you know it, the opportunity will be passed. 

Just as a father has compassion on his children,

So the Lord has compassion 

on those who fear Him.

Ps. 103:13

The family had gathered in California for a visit, and it wasn't very often that all of the kids and grandkids could be together, so on this visit, we made sure to get some good family pictures. It was the same weekend that he learned grandchild #6 was on the way. The look on dads face perfectly reflects how he felt about family. Time together is all he ever wanted. I inherited that from him.

With Bunns, Ming and the folks

We've bid farewell to two, but added fifteen!

The summer before he died. This was taken in my little brothers back yard and he was watching the bedlam of his children and grandchildren playing cards.
Nothing made him happier than being surrounded by family.