Post by Betsy Warren on Jul 5, 2009 16:57:40 GMT -6
Well, what can I say about my dad? Someone described him to me once as being "the salt of the earth," and I think that pretty much sums it up. Dad "never met a stranger", and it doesn't matter where he goes, he'll always see or bump into someone he knows (or who knows him). He can strike up a conversation with anyone about anything, and he would give you the shirt off his back if you were in need. Just don't ask him to be late to dinner.
Growing up, our life revolved around music. Whether it was listening to records, or watching TV while dad idly played his guitar, or hearing the back door quietly open as he got home at 1:00 am after playing a gig, music was the main thread that wove through the daily happenings in the household. It's fitting that he hit upon a career, albeit late in life, that would keep him involved in the music scene in ways he probably never thought of: piano tuning. And, of course, he played gigs to supplement his income with an ever-revolving cast of area musicians. It always gives me a thrill when I meet someone new and they say, "You're Wes Hird's daughter? Oh sure, I know Wes!"
Some of my best and earliest memories of my dad include cuddling with him in the armchair, being read Little Golden Books to sleep (and he would always try to do the voices of each character) and him teaching me to ride a bike.
I remember like it was yesterday: it was the day the training wheels were to come off and I would ride solo. We were living in Dunedin, Florida then and I was 5 years old. We started out down the sidewalk, me pedaling and him jogging behind me holding onto the back of the seat. I kept yelling "Don't let go! Don't let go, daddy!" not knowing he had already done so and was standing there watching me ride my big-girl two wheel bike with no help at all. I stopped, looked behind me, and saw him standing there. At first I was upset that he had let go, until a split second later the realization hit me that I'd Done It. He stood there smiling at me, knowing all along that I could do it.
Something I just LOVED to do with my dad growing up was make No-Bake Cookies. Dad would never announce he was going to make them, he would just get up one evening and start getting things out of the kitchen cabinets, and once I'd realize what he was doing, I'd go running to the kitchen to "help." He followed a recipe from his mom that was on a ripped and stained piece of notebook paper; those cookies always turned out excellent. Try as I might, to this day I can't get them to turn out like he did.
I love to hear my dad talk about his life growing up on the farm in Colorado and Nebraska, entering the Air Force in the early 50's, marrying my mom in 1952, playing the Florida music scene in various bands (and even backing up such celebrities as Bob Hope), and their move back to Nebraska in the late 60's. I'mnagging working on him to write his memoirs and to get those stories down before they fade from memory. You can help me out in this respect - the next time you talk to him, ask him how those memoirs are coming along!
But even though he's had a very eventful life, full of colorful stories and happenings....he'll always be My Dad, the man who has always been there for me through thick and thin and loves me no matter what.
Growing up, our life revolved around music. Whether it was listening to records, or watching TV while dad idly played his guitar, or hearing the back door quietly open as he got home at 1:00 am after playing a gig, music was the main thread that wove through the daily happenings in the household. It's fitting that he hit upon a career, albeit late in life, that would keep him involved in the music scene in ways he probably never thought of: piano tuning. And, of course, he played gigs to supplement his income with an ever-revolving cast of area musicians. It always gives me a thrill when I meet someone new and they say, "You're Wes Hird's daughter? Oh sure, I know Wes!"
Some of my best and earliest memories of my dad include cuddling with him in the armchair, being read Little Golden Books to sleep (and he would always try to do the voices of each character) and him teaching me to ride a bike.
I remember like it was yesterday: it was the day the training wheels were to come off and I would ride solo. We were living in Dunedin, Florida then and I was 5 years old. We started out down the sidewalk, me pedaling and him jogging behind me holding onto the back of the seat. I kept yelling "Don't let go! Don't let go, daddy!" not knowing he had already done so and was standing there watching me ride my big-girl two wheel bike with no help at all. I stopped, looked behind me, and saw him standing there. At first I was upset that he had let go, until a split second later the realization hit me that I'd Done It. He stood there smiling at me, knowing all along that I could do it.
Something I just LOVED to do with my dad growing up was make No-Bake Cookies. Dad would never announce he was going to make them, he would just get up one evening and start getting things out of the kitchen cabinets, and once I'd realize what he was doing, I'd go running to the kitchen to "help." He followed a recipe from his mom that was on a ripped and stained piece of notebook paper; those cookies always turned out excellent. Try as I might, to this day I can't get them to turn out like he did.
I love to hear my dad talk about his life growing up on the farm in Colorado and Nebraska, entering the Air Force in the early 50's, marrying my mom in 1952, playing the Florida music scene in various bands (and even backing up such celebrities as Bob Hope), and their move back to Nebraska in the late 60's. I'm
But even though he's had a very eventful life, full of colorful stories and happenings....he'll always be My Dad, the man who has always been there for me through thick and thin and loves me no matter what.