With love from 'Sis'

Robert Courtland Floyd
February 18, 1923 - February 12, 1997

Today would be my father's 88th birthday.

I love to think of this day...which would certainly include cherry pie instead of cake, and a good drink of Jim Beam Whiskey later on.

I won the lottery when I got Bob Floyd as my father.

He brought light and love and humor and wisdom and  

warmth and clever wit to his family every single day.

From the time we woke in the morning,

("Hit the deck! Rise and shine," he would shout)

Until we went to bed,

("Goodnight, Sis," he would say to me as he kissed my cheek)

He made all six of his children feel significant.

He was proud of his brood, and we knew it.

My favorite memory is accompanying him to a carnival one Saturday, part of a political campaign he was managing, I think. We wandered the grounds, greeting people and eating ice cream... nothing special, really, and I was fairly bored.  I think I was about fourteen at the time. Anyway, a carnival barker coaxed him over to a basketball goal (set up with no backboard) and cajoled him into playing. Three shots through the hoop, the man said, and you can pick any prize you want. 

Dad turned and handed me the ball. Me? I blushed. No, Dad.
Sure, he had said. Give it a try.
Well, I had played about a thousand games of  H-O-R-S-E out on the driveway in Ruskin with my four brothers, so I knew how to shoot a basketball, but three swishes with no backboard? 

No one could do that. 

"How will you know if you don't try?" he had asked.

I knew it was useless to argue.

I took the ball, stepped up to the free throw line, and dribbled. 

Bounce-bounce-bounce.

I looked up at the rim, bent my knees, and shot the ball
...swish!

"That's one," Dad said, retrieving the ball for me and

handing it back.

I was happy not to have humiliated myself among the group of onlookers who had gathered. I took the ball again,
and again bounce-bounce-bounced it. What the heck? I thought.

I looked up at the basket,
aimed for just over the rim, and shot
...swish!

I was amazed. Wow. Something to tell my brothers about now.

I had made two out of three shots, nothing but net, I thought.

 I could hear myself bragging to them now.

The carnival barker had retrieved the ball this time,
and handed it back to me with all the joy of a refuse collector.
I smiled and shrugged.

I was as surprised as he.

It was then that I made the mistake.

I glanced around to see that there were

more people standing around watching.

Watching me.

Watching me shoot a basketball.

Did I ever tell you how very shy I was as a child?

I took the ball from the not-very-happy man, and this time, my heart did that little flutter thing it does when you get nervous.
I realized there was a very good chance
I was going to choke on this last shot.
I looked helplessly at my father,
who was looking at me with a mix of pride and confidence.
Huh? I thought. Is he looking at me like that?

"You can do it," he said casually. 

I took the basketball, which suddenly felt verrrrry heavy.

Bounce-bounce-bounce. 

I looked up at the rim, which suddenly looked verrrry far away.
.
Bounce-bounce-bounce.

I looked up again, prolonging my agony.

Bounce-bounce-bounce.

Let's get this over with, I thought.

I looked up and took my shot.
Instead of swishing down into the net, the ball
(thank you, Mr. Adrenaline) hit the very back of the rim
....and bounced. 

It was like a scene from "Hoosiers". The ball seemed to hang in the air forever as I thought to myself "You blewwww it."

The ball came down and hit the side of the rim, bounced again, and came down to spiral around and around the rim until it finally
dropped through it. 

"She wins!" the carnival barker yelled.
People started to clap.

"What's your prize?"

I picked a straw hat.

"Aw, go ahead and take another," the suddenly sweet man said.

I chose a stuffed teddy bear for my new baby niece, Charlotte.

The surprised onlookers laughed and clapped again.

The carnival man, I'm sure, got lots of activity after that ("C'mon now, folks, if this girl can do it, you can do it!"), but what I will never forget is the look of triumph on my father's face.
He couldn't have been more proud if I had won the Nobel Peace Prize.
We left the carnival then, but as we walked the distance toward the exit, my father exclaimed to every person he passed,
"Do you see this hat? My daughter won this hat
by sinking three freethrows...no backboard!"

That day, I learned:

1. Dad believed in me.
2. You never know what you can do until you try.
3. You can sometimes amaze even yourself at your ability.

Here are a few more pictures of my dad as a young man.

Quite handsome, don't you think?

Dad in high school in his ROTC uniform
He went on to proudly wear the uniform of
the USMC, serving in the Pacific in WWII

Inscription reads,
"With love to the sweetest girl in the world."
(my mother, of course)
They were married for over 50 years.

At work early in his career as a broadcaster
His proudest moment was an interview he was granted
with President Harry S. Truman after an assassination attempt
by  Peurto Rican Nationalists in 1950 .

One more thing that Dad brought to the family was music.
He had a beautiful voice, and I think he sang every single day.
I honestly don't remember a day that he didn't sing something to us.
He sang everything from the sacred to the silly. He passed that mellifluous voice down to several children and grandchildren, but, alas, I did not win that lottery. 
Still, I credit his wide range of musical taste
to my love of music today. 

I wish we had a recording of him singing.

Today I'm headed to Kansas City to meet my twin,
who's flying in from California,  and other siblings.
We'll visit my mother and drink a toast to Dad.

It was a tough call on the music choice today, but I'm sure all of my siblings, and most of the grandchildren will identify with this one.

Enjoy!

♥ Bing is great, but Dad was better. ♥