Eighty-Three

I can’t believe my Dad turned 83 this past Friday.  He has lived through the depression, World War II and served in the Korean war.  He has farmed his entire life.  He sold his last cow when he was 79, but still lives on the farm he and my Mom bought in 1954.  He was 42 when I was born and was the oldest parent of any of the kids in my class during my school years.  He is the oldest person Sebastian and Sophia know.  And he has stories for every one of those 83 years.

My Dad  has slowed a bit recently, but still enjoys every minute of when his grandkids visit.  He loves watching videos of his great-grandson, Ari, giggling.  He talks about the stock market and politics with passion.  He eats sweets and doesn’t care if he has more than his share.  He’s 83, why not live a little?

We had a nice visit with my parents to celebrate my Dad’s birthday on Friday.  We ate sundaes with chocolate fudge, caramel and strawberry toppings – Sophia added sprinkles and whipped cream to hers.  We sat outside and talked in the warm sun.  We took a few pictures to remember the day.  I think we should plan to do it again next year.