My Dad

He is a gatherer of ideas

Expresses them well.

He is an ideal man.

 

He is open minded

Uncluttered and receptive to the opinion of others.

He is a liberal thinker.

 

He laughs openly and often.

Shares sharp amusing outlooks on current politics.

He is a humorist.

 

He is approachable and friendly.

An ally to all lucky to know him

He is a conversationalist.

 

He is empathic and sincere.

Pained and enraged by global cruelty

He is a humanitarian.

 

He is loving and loved.

He is my greatest supporter.

He is genuine.

He is my dad.

    Donne Jeannine Heatherly (08/07/2014)

 Happy 80 years wise my dear dad!

IPhone 2013 009

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Limerick To My Dad

Limerick To My Dad

 As a wee lass, there were cuddles, laughter,  and kind words when I was crying.

 There was naught ever a thing in my life time that I needed.

Alas, the Insolence of youth, rolling of eyes, and sounds of sighing.

His sage advice I seldom heeded.

With age and maturity my own offspring were seeded.

Now it is known to all who have known him…

My dad is the finest, without even trying!

Thank you for your constant care and love!

 Donna J. Heatherly

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Dad and I Circa 1961.  He grew a beard in honor of the E. St. Louis Centennial… the hat I am wearing is his from the event.

His beard was red, and his hair was blonde, I should add!

 

 

Moments From My Daughter’s Wedding

                    My Favorite Memories From My Daughter’s Wedding (May 28, 2011)

My happy father, road-trip ready, full of life and conversation on the long ride to Minneapolis. His continuous chatter, jokes and anecdotes made for a more enjoyable journey.

Toasting the bride and groom at Friday night’s ‘meet the parents’ dinner.  Being introduced to Kent and DarLa Anderson, and getting good vibes from my daughters’ new in-laws!

Arriving at Loring Park for the ceremony and finding Tyrel’s dad all decked out in his suit, and armed with a leaf blower doing goose poop removal duty. Now that is going above and beyond!

Lauren, cool and collected by all outside appearances.  But, knowing her heart was truly all aflutter.

Tyrel’s pacing pre-ceremony, waiting for his bride’s arrival.  (She was a bit late, he was a bit worried).

My arm intertwined with Lauren’s, sharing her walk down the aisle with her dad.  Knowing how much she will always want me to share these special moments with her.

Hearing the sincere emotion in Tyrel’s voice while he read his personal vows, and actually feeling him control his tears, while witnessing his love of my daughter.  Knowing she will be cherished, appreciated and he will do everything in his power to keep them both happy.
 
The beautifully and brightly decorated cake!  Baked with love by Tyrel’s mom and presented so gorgeously. And, of course the cutting of, where the happy couple got out of control and spontaneously gave us all a giggle.

Breakfast the morning of the big day at Keys Restaurant with Dave, Diana, Vernon and Dad, enjoying freshly baked whole wheat bread served with homemade jams.  

Surprised by my sense of calm while I read the poem ‘To Love’ during the wedding ceremony.  Proud that they asked me to do so.

My very well behaved grandsons!  Dylan and Devin looked super sweet in the bright colored polo shirts and khaki’s.  The had a great time at the reception too.

Each and every guest getting out of their chairs to dance with Lauren and Tyrel during their unique 1st dance – ‘Home is Everywhere We Are’.

Dancing with my dad to Johnny Cash, to help get the party started.

Watching the amazing video that Heather put together to surprise Lauren and Tyrel, and seeing their happy, emotional reaction.  

Walking the city scape and exploring Minneapolis. Seeing first hand where Lauren and Tyrel live and knowing they are in a great place together.  
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My Mothers Daughter

My mom was the constant protector of my body, mind and spirit. She was my friend, always ready to listen and offer her opinion to advise me, but only if I asked for it.  I miss those conversations we had about all things, large and small, always filled with giggles and her sweet attendance  to my words and thoughts. Her exceptional home cooking fueled my tiny bones so successfully that I remember suffering ‘growing pains’. I recall her concern over my distress when my legs ached. She would simply say in her concerned matter-of-fact voice that it was merely growing pains. She would put me to bed, telling me that I would feel better after a good nights rest. Sure enough, the next morning I was ready to grow some more under her care. My most memorable meal will always be her roast beef, potatoes and carrots. My gosh, she made it the best, embedding fresh garlic into the roast, browning it on an old cast iron skillet before baking in the oven. Ahhh, the beauty of those carrots, potatoes and celery surrounding that savory roast beef. When she took off the tin foil tent to so that the potatoes would get a golden patina it was like watching and artist working culinary magic. I miss the aroma of those Sunday afternoons while moms roast beef dinner was baking.

In the final week of her life, she and I had a conversation. She had been reflecting on the significance of her life. While I sat with her in the hospital, she raised the discussion about how challenging it is to be a woman, especially these days. We talked about how a woman works twice as hard as a man, with the ongoing domestic tasks on top of having a career. She asked me that age-old question that all mothers have pondered. She asked if I, as a child, had ever missed her when she was away at work. I instinctively knew what she was asking me without her putting it into words. She felt the perpetual guilt that all women have when torn between wanting to stay home to nurture their family but necessity sends them off to work. It took just a brief moment for me to answer her, and I hope relieve her. I told her sincerely that I never missed her one iota, because when she was home she was 100% available to me. I had never thought about this before, but as a child, I never felt that she was distracted with work, because she was always emotionally available when she was at home. I do remember that she did go off to work, but while she was gone my dad stepped up, thus I never had the chance to miss her. I told her that I felt loved my entire life. I hope I alleviated any thoughts of guilt or remorse she had about working outside the home.

My mom carried with her a deep-seated patience, and even though I struggle with that virtue, it is because of her acceptance of others in a nonjudgmental fashion that I am open, caring and able to forgive. I have the capacity to forgive myself my many faults. Her quick beautiful smile and her ability to laugh at herself is also a trait of hers that I hold, and I hope will be passed to my daughters. How can I possibly count the multitude of aspects of being my mothers’ daughter, which make me the woman I am today? I have learned so many morals from her countless lessons from observing my mom’s behavior and interactions with others through the years. Most importantly, I will carry her spirit and feel her love inside my heart, mind, and soul every day.

 

Reflective Pond

>Reflective Pond
D.J. Hall (August 2007)

Search for hidden pond
With an eager anticipation
For a successful expedition

Opportunity for abundant fishing
For answers, blue gill, our emotions unraveled.
Propels us through a path less traveled
Traipsing mile after mile in summer’s humidity
Past endless rows of sunny simplicity.

Yellow faces watch in silence as we feel
Relentless dampness seep from pores at
Neck, cleavage, face and arms, as the
weight of the chaos I have created
continually trickles through my thoughts.
Much like the unremitting, infuriating mosquitoes.
Threatening to drive me crazy.

Onward, our heavy feet trudge, through a
Midwestern field full of tall grass and ticks
Accompanied by droning honeybees and
Annoyance of horseflies, heat and his enthusiasm.

Sulking, I discover beauty beneath the surface.
Like many other spheres of life,
I find a hidden eco-system at the edge of the pond,
Woven between the algae, guppies and tiny frogs.
As I sit and fume about my discomfort, misery and him
is the certainty that we, too, are intermingled.
Energy, fate, force or whim
Compels me to accept the reality that I had
attempted to submerge.
The certainty that I believe in our love, our future,
and that our affections will once again resurface.