The Only Man that Can See Better with his Glasses on Head than on His Face!

I remember as a child loving to see my dad. What a great big bear he was! I would see him drive up in some sort of SUV, drag his iron body out of the truck, and grumble inside, like a bear who was ready for hibernation. He'd moan into his room and plop himself down on the bed. He worked really hard to help his growing family. I would saunter in the room, oblivious to how difficult it was to keep going on his tired body and ask for favors, or moreover, money. " Girl! Money doesn't grow on trees! You have a champagne taste on a beer budget." All of the truths taught by a father to his learning daughter. Learning to be money wise was only the beginning. I also learned to be understanding in other's times of trial. One morning after a night of hair color in a box gone wrong, I remember sitting on my dad's lap, bawling my eyes out because I didn't want to go to school. His face softened and he held my tall 5'8'' frame as he called Chatfield and explained to the secretary that I would not be able to attend my classes for the day because my hair was not looking quite right and I needed my mother to help conceal the disaster that happened before any of my boyfriend's, who wouldn't be my boyfriends if they knew how big my dad really was, saw me! I laughed and he hugged me as we went to the store to buy new hair color. He was also very quick to act when I was in need. As a young girl, I took advantage of his willingness to help me out. I would call from a long day of first period and say, " Daddy, I have cramps..." without a moments hesistation, "I'll be there in ten minutes. Get your stuff." Love it! He was there in his truck right outside of the school ready to take me home. I have a great Dad. My most memorable moment was when I was putting makeup on in my parent's bathroom and Pops was watching the tube. I was stroking each eyelash liberally with the wand as I heard from the bed, "sniffle, sniffle, sniffle." What was he all choked up about?? I walked over to see him watching a Spanish soap opera! "Dad are you being serious?" "Well, if you knew who they were Jac , you would be upset he was leaving too." My dad knows an un poquito amount of espanol. No matter the situation my hopes is that this entry will spark the "Wes Stories" we all know and love. It is tradition to tell them and this blog is the first written account. I love my dad. He rocks...hard core.