It is my birthday today

I turn fifty three today, normally I would not announce this to the world, but this one has special significance. My father died when he turned fifty three on May 3rd .......... his birthday. He is the only I know of that was born and then died on the same day.

This picture of my Father was taken thirty three years ago he was 48.

For the last year I have thought about this a lot. Will I wake up that morning? Would I follow in his footsteps and have a heart attack? Will I live to see another day?

It is such a weird thing to think about.

I am not afraid of death, I kind of look forward to it because I know who my savior is. It is just the fact that I am the same age as he was. All those many years ago he seemed so much older. Fifty Three is not old.

I miss him, I wish I could have know him better. He was a very private man. Raised in the depression, he grew up facing tough times. A blue collar kind of guy in fact he kind of reminded me of Archie Bunker, he had the same type of facial details, with that sad tired look in his eyes. The eyes tell it all, eyes that have seen and experienced too much in life. Tired eyes, when one has worked too hard for too little.

Born in 1927 he was the third of twelve. The family migrated here from Ireland and the Welsh country. His younger years were tough. I use to hear tidbits sitting around the table during family reunions about how rowdy he and his brothers were. They never expanded on those stories, too many children around with big ears. I do have a picture some where with him and another brother sitting on a ledge at Boys Town USA, yes the real one with Father Flannigan. My brothers and sisters and I were told that they were sent there because the family could no longer afford to feed everyone since it was during the depression. I think maybe if truth were to be told it was because they were just a little bit too rowdy to handle.

So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when I found out he once was a semi-pro boxer. I have one picture of him in his boxing trunks, it is the only picture I have showing him with a full head of hair. I only knew him as being bald. I wish I could find that picture.

His life was not all bad nor was his times all tough. He did a good job raising a family in the middle of a wheat field in eastern Washington. Even though there was not a lot of money we did not lack and there were many good times. He was a hard working Irish man, with a love for the Boy Scouts. I will always have wonderful memories of our family vacations on the Oregon Coast. And I was lucky enough to have him still here to walk me down the isle. I wish I could have known him better.


So here I am Fifty Three, the same age as he was when he died. I miss him.

All I know is the Good Lord is not done with me yet because he allowed me to wake up this morning..................Halleluiah!


So I will sit with my morning coffee, thanking my God that He sustains me. Watching the little birdies feed outside my patio door. (There is something very peaceful about this.) Then I have the great privilege of taking my daughter who is 7 months pregnant to her ultra sound, to be able to see the amazing gift of life inside her, my second granddaughter.


So I celebrate my life today.



I am blessed with three lovely grown children all finding there way in the world. My first granddaughter never ceases to make me laugh who truly is the joy of my life, and I am surrounded by wonderful group of friends. Life can’t get much better than this.

My times are in His hands!

What an amazing day this already is!!