Letters To Lyla

Dear Lyla,

I have mentioned before that your daddy and I met when we were in graduate school; we had our first date in November (on your Grandpa Dwight’s birthday). We went to Olive Garden to eat and we went “dutch,” which means we each pay half; although your daddy was short on cash so I had to pick up the majority of the tab (The events of our first date really have nothing to do with the following story but I have never let daddy forget that I had to pay on the first date and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to do it again here).  The fall semester that I met daddy was a busy one as it was my first semester in graduate school. Since we had only been dating for a little while when the holidays rolled around I went back to Minnesota for Christmas to see Grandma Jo  and Bumpa; daddy stayed behind to be with his family at Great-grandma Evelyn’s farm. When I got back to school life was so busy that I was not able to go back North again until the Fourth of July holiday during the summer; daddy was to go with me. I was nervous because Bumpa had never liked any boy I had brought home (in retrospect he was probably spot on with his assessment of these gentlemen).  Grandma Jo had already met daddy earlier in the spring when she came down to visit; daddy had long hair at the time and your grandma was not having it! She made up her mind then and there that she did not like daddy. You have to understand that this is a point that grandma denies vehemently now; she says she always thought daddy was a fine young man. Sometimes little one  history is subjective and in some cases, revisionist. Your daddy and I drove over thirteen hours north that summer to spend a few days with Bumpa and Grandma Jo. I will never forget the first night daddy visited Minnesota. That night we sat around an old, round oak table that had been in our family for as long as I can remember. Coffee was the drink of choice, as it can still get quite chilly at night that far north if the windows are left open, and conversation was finally starting to flow. You see, daddy can be a bit reserved and shy if he doesn’t know people very well. He would argue that he is waiting to assess whether someone is worth getting to know, I argue he is an introvert (both assertions have merit). Let me preface the rest of the story by stating that, as daddy was about to sit down at the table my sister Patti jumped up and told him to take her chair, as it was one of the wide wooden chairs with rollers. My sister can have a wicked streak in her as she meets out her own tests of suitability;  for her resiliency and a sense of humor are a litmus test. Daddy was finally starting to get comfortable talking to Bumpa and they started to chat about Great-grandma Evelyn and Great-grandpa Raymond’s farm. Quite suddenly all four legs of the wooden chair went out from under daddy.  The next thing I know daddy’s eyes are as wide as saucers and his face was as red as Santa’s suit. I was concerned that he had hurt himself, until I heard my sister laughing. She was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face and she couldn’t breathe. Then it dawned on me; she had given him the chair on purpose. On closer inspection of the chair, I noticed she had given him the “trick” chair. The spools on this particular chair had come apart so many times no one could keep count. It did not matter if you were big, small, short or tall; the spools on the chair would gradually separate over time and it was just a matter of bad timing for the person who would be its next victim. This Patti knew, this Patti understood and this Patti planned. For his part, daddy passed the test. He got up, dusted himself off and the conversation went right on along. I could have been mad at my sister for inflicting her brand of social acceptance on daddy, and perhaps I should have, but truth be told; I don’t think I was. I think it was Patti’s way of protecting her little sister and making sure this new addition to our family had the chops it took to hang out with the Pier clan. So little one, in a way I am grateful. It showed me early on in my relationship with your daddy that he was someone to trust, someone who was patient and most importantly someone who can laugh at himself. We are lucky to have daddy. You and I are a lot alike and it is going to take daddy a great deal of patience and humor to deal with the two of us over the years; let’s thank our lucky stars that daddy has already proven he is up to the task.