Note: This blog was written on Wednesday, Nov. 25, the day before Thanksgiving.
Hey, Dad. It’s been a while since I’ve written you. It’s been a crazy year with a pandemic, toxic election and much more. There have been times when I’ve actually thought, “You know, I wouldn’t want the old man to see or experience any of this garbage.”
Thanksgiving is going to be a little different this year. My family ended up spending the day at our home, partially due to COVID-19, as this terrible virus is known. It’s the first time since I moved back home in 2010 that I won’t see the rest of the family on Thanksgiving. Fortunately, I started my own family not long after that, so I’m not alone. I’ll be grilling steaks to go along with the bounty of food Shana and Molly cook. Brody is here with Koen, so it’ll be a full house for us.
I couldn’t not say hello, at least, to Dan’s family and Mike and Sheila (the in-laws for those who don’t know me), so I stopped by to see them and deliver pies today (the day before Thanksgiving). Dan wasn’t home and Tristan and his wife live in Topeka, but I got to see everybody else.
About 30 minutes into our conversation, the topic shifted to you. We spent the next half hour telling stories about the old man. Most of these stories focused on your driving. You were (are) the most aggressive driver I’ve ever been in a car with. I told Tricia and the kids about the time we were driving to the Missouri-Oklahoma football game in 2010 and you scared me half to death. As you often did, you were tailing the car in front of you in the passing lane, maybe 10 feet to spare.
Finally, as you roared past the car when it moved into the right lane with the distinct Webb glare fixed on the driver, I said, “Dad, could you please drive a little less crazy?” To which you said, “Son, I’m 65 years old. What am I worried about?” “Yeah, and I’m 34 and would like to see 35,’” I replied.
We somehow got to Columbia safely before heading to Farout Field and watching the Tigers upset the top-ranked Sooners. One of my fondest memories is storming the field with you and thousands of other fans. I’ll never forget how gracious defensive back Kevin Rutland (who went on to play in the NFL) was when you went up to him to say congratulations.
Tricia shared two stories, the first being the time you played leap-frog with a guy who pissed you off, passing him on the shoulder at high speeds. “I’m curled up in the fetal position in the passenger seat when he finally pulls over and he’s pissed off and says, ‘Well, you drive then!’”
The second story, in her words: “One time we were on I-70, and there were two cars, one in the passing lane in front of him and one in the other lane right beside him. He’s right on this guy because he can’t pass. The car in the right lane is doing 75, and the car in the passing lane is doing 75.2. When he finally got to pass them, he’s yelling at them, and then he looks at me and says, ‘Those two were working together.’ He was dead serious.”
I was doubled over laughing at this point as I pictured that in my head. I left a few minutes later to visit you, a must on the big holidays, of course. As I drove to the cemetery, I thought about our first holiday season without you last year. I rarely talked about you from Thanksgiving through Christmas. It just hurt too much. I realized how nice it was to talk about you this holiday season and share memories with those who love you the most.
We all miss you and love you. I’ll make sure to eat a big piece of pumpkin pie in your honor.
