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My dad

Two old guys are traveling down the highway. Deep in debate. Each touting the merits of the Ford versus Chevy. Suddenly, they spy a car on the side of the road. Hood up, smoke pouring out. As if to drive his point home, one ole' guy exclaims....”Looky there...a Ford with a Chevy motor”

Dad would be a bit upset that so many had put aside their Saturday plans to pay respects to dad. He felt funerals barbaric and were for the living. Since he was so busy living – he would grump about taking time to attend a funeral.

Several words can be used to describe Dad, Glen, Big Glen, Big G, Silver. He was intelligent, opinionated, strong, funny, arrogant. One word I cannot use to describe him is genuine. He was not always as he presented himself. In fact, underneath his burly, gruff, argumentative exterior, he was quite soft, tender, loving, and loyal. He either liked you or he didn't and most often – people thought they fell into the latter category. He would be humbled to see so many here. A bit sheepish upon realizing that so many would take the time to say good-bye.

As a young lad, my dad saved his hard earned money and bought his first gun. We're supposing it was a Daisy Red Rider BB Gun. Dad learned early on the responsibility of owning a fire arm. Not long after acquiring this high powered weapon, he shot his brother, my Uncle Milton, in the leg. Not a smooth move. The race was on. Milton was bigger but dad was faster. Dad liked to say that Milton was darn lucky that day because dad couldn't pump and run at the same time. My grandmother intervened saving Milton from another shot and saving dad from being pummeled by his older brother. What she did next would haunt dad the rest of his life. She confiscated the weapon and later reported to dad that she burned it. He never believed her but he never found the gun.

Mom, my sisters, and I are aware that we are not the only ones experiencing loss and broken hearts. His sister, Janine, may finally be able to forgive him for stealing her special perfume when she was little. This wasn't just plain thievery. He loaded the perfume into his water gun. Janine is certain that she got to wear the perfume after all.

When my sisters, were little, dad always found a way to disappear on Saturday's. He had “errands” to run. Guy stuff like going to the dump. Mom was overjoyed when she learned that I, too, loved going to the dump with dad. The passenger seat of his pickup was a coveted spot on Saturday mornings.

As I got older and lost interest in the dump, Mandi took my seat in the truck. Being the baby – she must have been dad's favorite because he took her to garage sales, calling her his “Little Left Hand Girl”.

He took all of us fishing at different times. One particular time, he musta lost a bet with mom or was in big trouble with her...he took all three of my sisters to Cessna's lease for a fishing adventure. And what an adventure it was. Megan was an eager and chatty girl. Not the makings of a pro fisherchild. But she had a gift. He spent hours that day baiting her hook, and unhooking her bluegill...fish after fish after fish she caught. If we could have had a meal of bluegill – it would have been a feast! We have no idea if Mandi or Toni caught a thing! Another fishing trip involved Mandi and a 5 ½ pound catfish. Now THAT woulda been a feast. But Mandi didn't want to hurt the fish and made him throw him back.

As we grew older, we began to realize that the stress of living with all those girls got to dad. We thought he was the meanest man alive. All of our laughing, crying, playing......he couldn't take a day without bellowing at us – the younger 3 for having fun – me for antagonizing them. Looking back, I wonder if he wasn't having a reaction to all those hormones and estrogen surrounding him.

No matter how “mean” we thought he got – we always knew but never took for granted the fact that this man had our back. He would not hesitate to come to our rescue – at school and through our own personal mistakes. One school story involves Megan, Buhler High School's “Zero Tolerance Policy” and a 3” pocket knife she ordered out of a comic book some 5 years prior. No matter how badly we messed up, he was always there to help us pick up our pieces.

I remember our childhood as pretty ordinary. Each day, dad went to work, came home and would kiss mom in greeting. Saturday nights were their date nights. Dad would bathe, listen to his 33's, and douse himself in British Sterling.

As we all left home, mom and dad began to do a bit of traveling. He would grumble about it – but I sure haven't seen a picture yet where he looks too miserable.

I saw my dad broken hearted one time. In the prairie fire of '94, he lost his 69 Cobra, 40 ford and tractor. He lost countless oil jars, tools, and other antique treasures acquired during his Saturday morning adventures. We felt his loss but could not ease that pain.

My dad had a quick and dry wit. We couldn't possible list all of his quotes and quips but our favorite is: Are we here to kick tires or are we here to buy guns

My Uncle Hal's favorite is: Vick...don't drink the water. This came about after his trip to the island of Utila in Honduras. Our big strong sure footed dad fell into the cistern.

Thank you mom, once again, for your dedication to dad. For your constant care and determined persistence the past couple of years. Your vigilance has made us all proud.

Father's Day will forever have new meaning for my sisters and I. Upon reflecting, we can remember no particular special gift. The only constant gift to dad was British Sterling Aftershave. One time, Mandi went overboard and gave dad a box of tic tacs, but that was for his birthday! Our meaning of father's day has been greatly altered. We can now appreciate and accept all of the gifts our dad gave to us.