Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1174 (SoD #1588) - Dad's birthday, the big guy, t-shirt reprint, and other DAD moments

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1174 (SoD #1588) - Dad's birthday, the big guy, t-shirt reprint, and other DAD moments

Hi Mom,

Rare thing happening. I am posting HEY MOM entries on consecutive days. There will be another tomorrow.

Also, this is two days late, which gives me some guilt since it's dedicated to Dad's birthday and so it really should have been on the day. Like everything in my life, things happen, but they happen slowly.

I am re-posting here my entry of love for my Dad and how great he is that I have re-posted before but this time with extra bits from other posts and some more photos, starting here:

This entry documents my fall from the roof at the Hazelwood house and how Dad, then, took me to my first rock concert -- David Cassidy -- the next day.

FROM
https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2018/07/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-1102.html

So, today is mainly about this photo, seen above. I miss that Hazelwood house.

Here I am pointing to the spot where I fell off our roof the day before I went to my first ever rock concert to see David Cassidy perform, solo, at the then Pine Knob outdoor amphitheater. The year was 1972, and I was ten years old.

The Internet tells me that David Cassidy played Pine Knob on June 25, 1972, a Sunday, the day before my Dad's 37th birthday.

So, the day before, Saturday, we were working on the roof, cleaning gutters, doing some light repairs. Dad sent me back to the garage to get a hammer. I was on my way back to him. I set the hammer on the roof, and I was climbing off the ladder when I must have slipped. I rolled down part of the roof, and tumbled through the air, luckily, landing on my feet on the concrete slab of our driveway, which can be seen in the picture despite it looking green in hue.

The next day my feet hurt so badly that I had a difficult time walking from the parking lot to the open air arena.

David Cassidy passed away last year.

https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/it-s-no-fun-when-they-rip-your-clothes-the-life-and-death-of-hearthrob-david-cassidy-1.3300838

What follows is almost like a travel log of things I did with Dad after you passed away, Mom. Suddenly with new found freedom and in coping with our grief from loss, we did a bunch of things together.

I won't chart everything because there's movies and plays and things.  But there's some cool, major stuff, such as ...

Starting with... the MAGIC convention.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #33 - Abbott's Magic Get Together part one

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #33 - Abbott's Magic Get Together part one

Hi Mom, I went to the Abbott's Magic Get Together this year.

It was a great time.

As you know, I love magic.

I am spreading out the content over three days worth of posts, Mom, so today is mostly pictures. More are included following a jump break.

Here's my badge.

more at - https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/08/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-33-abbotts.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/08/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-34-abbotts.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/08/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-35-abbotts.html

Me and Dad at River Lake Inn Thursday 1508.06

me and Dad at Curly's prior to Wednesday show 1508.05

more at - https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/08/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-55-arrived.html

Me and Dad at Trattoria Stella
at the State Hospital development
1508.31

continued in
https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/08/he
y-mom-talking-to-my-mother-56.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/09/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-57.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/09/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-58.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/09/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-61-more-on.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/09/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-63-whiskey.html

OUR HOUSE
https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/09/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-62-our.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/11/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-126-king.html

More at -
https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2015/11/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-130.html

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/01/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-195-mlk.html

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #195 - MLK Day Pistons game with Dad & a Puppy

Hi Mom,

Dad and I went to a Pistons game today for MLK Day, which is not something we could do while you were alive.

We're doing many things we could not do when you were alive. Though we would trade these things for you in a heartbeat.

Before the game, we ate in the Palace Grille, which is something I have not done since before I got married. Good dinner. I had steak and Dad had a Portbello Mushroom Stack. My steak was cut in strips and serves with Parmesan fries, grilled Brussels sprouts and carrots. I drank two beers: the Not Your Father's Root Beer and a local Pine Knob Pilsner. Dad had scotch.

Good game but a loss for the Pistons, which is sad as they beat the #1 team in basketball, and the defending World Champions on Saturday when they had a reunion for the 2004 team and retired Ben Wallace's number three.

The Pistons built an 11 point lead in the first and then let it slip away. In the shot above, I clicked a little too soon, but Ersan's shot drops for a three pointer.

Satchel cuddling with her Dad 1601.17

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/02/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-223-dads.html

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #223 - Dad's Deacon Installation

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #223 - Dad's Deacon Installation

Hi Mom, Liesel and I joined Lori and Noel at the Richland Presbyterian church yesterday to see Dad ordained as a deacon. They had asked him to be an Elder, but he declined choosing to serve in the order you served, Mom, being a deacon first.

I am very proud of him.

It was an emotional day for us, but we felt you watching over us and smiling.

We love you, Mom.

And see below, Dad is also a member of the altar guild and making altar arrangements.

Dad being ordained 1602.14

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/02/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-229-wmu-vs.html

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #229 - WMU vs. CMU Basketball Game

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #229 - WMU vs. CMU Basketball Game

Hi Mom, Dad and I went to a WMU basketball game yesterday (Saturday 1602.20). We watched the Broncos play CMU, Central Michigan University, which was extra special because that's where you and Dad met.

It was a fun game. We sat close to the court and yelled a little at the referees. We also spied President Dunn yelling at referees, which was cute.

And WESTERN won the game. After four years, I got to see Anthony Avery, Jr. play. Anthony or AJ had been my student in 2012. AJ had nine points and seven boards, but key boards at the end. He also iced some key free throws at the end that helped put the game away.

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/04/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-276-tigers.html

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #276 - Tigers Opening Day 2016

in our seats by the bullpen
Opening Day 2016 - 1604.08

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #276 - Tigers Opening Day 2016

Prince Hal Newhouser

Hi Mom,

It was cold. I have pictures from last year, so I know it was about ten degrees colder than last year. The temperature ranged from 38-41, and it snowed a little.

But the Tigers won!! Starter Jordan Zimmerman and the bullpen limited the Yankees to three hits. The Tigers pounded out thirteen hits, including a home run by Miguel Cabrera.

Going to opening day in Detroit is a rite of passage for me. It's a spiritual experience. As I wrote about the other day, Baseball is one of my passions, one of the things that gives me joy. My wife does not understand this passion, but that's okay. She does not share the passion. That's okay, too.

Going to a Tigers game makes me really happy. It's a transcendent experience. And Opening Day is especially great.

This year was even more special. Dad and I last went to opening day in either 1997 or 1998 at Tigers Stadium. I need confirmation, but I am pretty sure we did not go together in 1999, the last opening day in Tigers Stadium. And then you fell ill, Mom, and Dad could not go again. He had never been to Comerica Park.

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/06/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-348-walk.html

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #348 - Walk with Dad & Dad's Day

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2017/06/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-723-me-and.html

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #723 - Me and Dad - My 7th Birthday - Jan. 1969 Throwback Thursday 1706.29 - photo series one #25 - Taking Again - Conversations #12

Hi Mom,

At first, I thought this was a black and white photo. But then I saw the yellow on the clown candle, and I realized that this is just a very washed out color photo. I do not have that many pictures of Dad let alone me and Dad as he was usually taking the picture. This picture is from the Schoolcraft house, which I barely remember at all. I have lost a lot of details of it, and I am not sure we have that many pictures of it, inside or out.

I cannot make it much of the food on the table. Was I into scalloped potatoes yet at 7 years? Is that corn and some other vegetable in the double dish? Did I like spinach yet? And what's on the big tray? I somehow doubt I was a steak eater at seven. And that would be  A LOT of steak.

I like seeing that I am already in my pajamas.

So, that's the photo analysis, Mom. Hi again.

and there's this -

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #838 - A Satchel - What We Leave Behind, What We Let Go

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2017/10/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-838.html

Me and the Big Guy at the Kalamazoo County Fair with Wilson 1608.11

and lots more great pictures here -

https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/12/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-543-2016.html

I am tempted to collect all the trip west links here because it does not appear that I have done that yet, but I am more inclined to make that a special Throwback Thursday in the future.

And now the main reprint event:



Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #355 - Dad's birthday, the big guy, t-shirt reprint

Hi Mom,

Dad's birthday today, Mom. I considered new content, but with our all day power washing yesterday and a church outing followed by brunch at Faye's today, I need to bear down and finish this last week's work. So, here's content about Dad, ORIGINALLY PRESENTED in T-shirt #233.

I love you, Big Guy.

You're the best. Happy 81st birthday.




T-shirt #233: Tower Pinkster Titus Associates Architects

I write a lot about heroes on this blog: super heroes, music heroes, sports heroes, and a few others not easily classified. But if I am being honest, the greatest heroes in my life are my family members: my parents, my Wife, my Step-kids, my Sister, assorted cousins, and some deceased folks. Today's blog will be about one such person who is a super hero to me: my Father, Robert Tower.

My Father worked for most of his life in an architectural firm that still bears his name. When we came to town, the firm was called Stapert, Pratt, and Sprau. Soon, it was called Stapert, Pratt, Sprau, and Tower. Soon after, Stapert, Pratt, Sprau, Tower, and Pinkster, and then eventually, it bears the name as seen in the t-shirt: Tower, Pinkster, Titus Associates - Architects, Engineers, and Interior Designers, better known as TPTA.. After these principals retired, the firm decided to keep the name, abbreviated to just Tower Pinkster, as that's all that people usually remembered of it anyway. The featured shirt displays my favorite TPTA logo. I really like the black and white pattern set off by the contrast of the red dot. I am so proud to be the son of such a prestigious and career-accomplished architect like my Father.

Given what my Dad has meant to my life, this shirt should have come up sooner. But the shirts are not ranked.
There's no meaning to why it did not appear until shirt 233. Mainly, we needed time to arrange for the pictures at the current Tower Pinkster location and to have lunch in Sushiya, which is downstairs.

Of all the heroes I can name, my Dad is in the upper echelon, the top tier, the best of the best. I love my Dad. I know that such a statement is not all that original. Sons are supposed to love their fathers. But I am not trying to be original, and I am not interested in doing what I am "supposed to do." I love my Dad very much, and I think he is an extraordinary human being, a great father, and a wonderful husband.

In my sophomore year of college, I took a course in the autobiography at Kalamazoo College, taught by Gail Griffin. I did not do a very good job on my final autobiography project. I had many things happening in my life that quarter that caused distractions. But I did produce some forty pages of story about my life in very rough form, and then, much to Gail's chagrin, I corrected the manuscript in red pen before I submitted this mess to her. Somehow, she read it all. I am amazed by that. As a teacher now myself, I would have returned it to the student unread with a note: "don't waste my time with unprofessional products." But Gail did not do that. She read it, and she felt that my exhortations and grand pronouncements of love for my Father hid a deeper layer of issues with him, with authority, and flaws in our relationship. At the time, I was deeply offended. Who was this person to tell me that I may not be truthful about my feelings toward my Father? Ridiculous. Not everyone has troubles with his/her parents. Some of us actually get along with our parents, live a good life not a dysfunctional one. I do think Gail had identified some pent up feelings that I had not examined too closely. But I also feel that everything I wrote was true: I do love my Father, and I think he's the best father in the whole world.

Is he perfect? No. But then, who is perfect? Robert Tower tried very hard to be perfect and few could match his exacting standards for himself, and so it was impossible to be better at things than he was. He was always busier than any of us and yet able to do more and meet his obligations better. My Dad followed through. My Dad improved on his father's way of fathering. My Dad was the best dad he could be, and our relationship has grown so much throughout my life that I am definitely closer to him now, even though we have always been close.


As I have become a kind of father myself (sort of a father), a step-father, I have grown much, MUCH more appreciative for the kind of father my Father is. I see so much of him in myself, and I always think about how he handled situations with me and our family as I try to determine how to handle situations with my step-kids and with my wife. I do make improvements. My Dad did not handle every situation perfectly. But the few quibbles I would make of his handling of me and our family are things that have changed about him in the man he is today. And the man he is today is even more extraordinary than the man of my childhood.

Christmas 2000

My childhood was idyllic. There were wrestling matches. In one, I scratched his cornea with my foot. In another, he broke his hand (or this might be the same one; he may have broken his hand when he slammed it on the floor pissed that I scratched his cornea). He scratched his cornea again getting an icicle for me off the roof that fell into his eye. I guess I think of these injuries of my father's because they are endemic of his sacrifice and his commitment to our family. So there's also the tailbone injury and the hatchet to the leg injury, and the falling off the roof injury, but I will save these for another time.

But there were plenty of times without injury, too. School projects, like the racing car derby, various science projects with displays aided by his art, and when I started doing magic, we constructed many things, including an elaborate table/storage cabinet with a large dragon cutout of wood and painted bright orange on the front (to be featured in a future blog post). My Dad served as Cub Scout pack leader, for which there were camp outs, projects, sales of Christmas trees, and supervision of meetings. My Father interceded on my behalf when I was being bullied. My Father bought me comic books and read me my first comic books as a small child. And even beyond comic books, he (and my Mother, too) engineered my love of reading with so many books and story times. My love of science fiction comes to me from my Father. My first science fiction book that I tried to read (The Andromeda Strain) in fourth grade came from my Father. Many of the science fiction books I gave him for Christmas and birthdays have become mine and are treasured possessions. There were hugs, family dinners, and glorious vacations. I cannot even describe all the wonderful times and the many memories I cherish in just this one paragraph (and with 132 t-shirts to go in my year, I figure I can come back to this subject).

My Mom and Dad, Wedding Photo, 1958

Throughout my childhood, and in the formative years of college and thereafter, my Father was always there for me. There's so much to say about this, too much. Though he was busy, he always made time for me. When I got into a jam (and  I got into a lot of them), my Father bailed me out (quite literally in one case). My Father helped me buy (or bought for me) cars and so many of the things I cherish most: holiday gifts, my stereo, my camera, my bed (now Ivan's), and especially his old college winter coat, which I wore for many years until it was too small.

I am not sure I can ever repay my Father for all his favors, kindness, generosity, and love let alone the money he actually asked me to repay. And college. Because he was then President of TPTA and Bronson Hospital was the firm's biggest client, he was able to pay for my college education at Kalamazoo College, for which I am forever grateful.

Until recently (when he has become more weepy), I had only seen my Father cry twice. The first time was in a therapy session when I was a child. We met with a therapist because I was being bullied at school. The therapist hit on the fact that though my Father showed his love for me in a million ways, he did not say he loved me. And so the therapist made sure he said it in the session. When I revealed that I was not sure that he did love me, he cried. I was deeply touched to see him cry. More touched on his second cry, which will be described in the next paragraph, but one more thought here before I move on: the guilt trips he inflicted on his family, especially my mother, was the part of the cause for her eventual therapy and now mine. Though this was (not so much anymore) one of his few character flaws, as flaws go, it's not a terrible one to have.

Rotary 2006

I saw my father cry for only the second time in my life when, in the year 2000, our family was rocked and everything changed. My Mother contracted Bacterial Meningitis. Her heart stopped. She stopped breathing. She had to be brought back. She fell into a coma for nine days. When she woke, after surgery, she had lost all use of her left arm and nearly all use of both of legs. Once the finality of what had happened hit my father, I saw him weep, as much as he was trying to be strong, to hold it in. I had never loved my father more than I did at that moment. Throughout his life, in every action, every moment, he showed me how to be an impeccable husband and father, a good man. I am not sure if I measure up to his standards even now, but I have his example to compare with, and I try very hard.

Now, my Father is retired from the firm, and he is my Mother's full-time caregiver as she cannot bathe herself, cannot dress herself, and may not be able to continue to feed herself (though for now she does all right). My Father was known by the ICU nurses at Bronson (where my mother stayed for three months from March-June of 2000) as Saint Bob. The care he gives my Mother is an extraordinary feat of patience and love. I am awed by his commitment to my Mother and our family, and though I may never repay him for all he has given me, I try to support him as much as I am able (as does my sister and our third "child," and "adopted" sister Melanie). The picture above shows a proud moment for my Father as my Mother was awarded a Paul Harris Fellowship by Kalamazoo Rotary, which is quite an honor and a distinction.

Back in June, my Father turned 78 years old, and he is still caring for my Mother, doing architectural side jobs, and running a household. He is an inspiration.

My Father is my rock. Thankfully, now that I am married, he is not my only rock or my number one rock since that distinction belongs to my wife. But I would not be able to get along without him. I rely on him a great deal. He still helps me often with my new role as husband, father, and home-owner. And in return, I try to help him as much as I possibly can. It's never enough. Those old guilt trips still linger, but they are not too onerous.

No short essay about the greatness of my Father would be complete without pictures of his shop. Though I did not talk much about his anal tendencies in this essay, these pictures speak volumes about that subject.

I love you, Dad.

Please live to be over 100 years old, so that we have many, many more years together. :-)

original - from t-shirts blog - chris tower - 1311.09 - 9:55

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Original reprint data:
- Days ago = 357 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1606.26 - 10:10

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Reflect and connect.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.

I miss you so very much, Mom.

Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 1453 days ago

- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1906.26 - 10:10

NEW (written 1708.27) NOTE on time: I am now in the same time zone as Google! So, when I post at 10:10 a.m. PDT to coincide with the time of your death, Mom, I am now actually posting late, so it's really 1:10 p.m. EDT. But I will continue to use the time stamp of 10:10 a.m. to remember the time of your death, Mom. I know this only matters to me, and to you, Mom.