My Dad's 1921 Silver Dollar

I tought this was going to be a very merry Christmas this year when I saw that three of my Dad's silver coins from the wood box could fetch $29,000. I remeber thinking it's too good to be true. I thought even if I got a third, what would I do with an extra $10,000 this Christmas? I decide I would buy three computers for myself and my daughters so Suzy could have her's back. With the remainder I would fully finance the Key Think Foundation's disaster relief efforts and lauch the Tithe Loan Project for economic development through micro finance opportunity. This is going to be great!

So I see this “Road Show” advertisement for buying valuables. A couple of coins my Dad left me in the wood box were advertised for big money! A 1921 Silver Dollar for $5,000! I had two Indian Head Buffalo nickels for $12,000 each! Yahooo! I jumped in my car a drove to the Sheraton in Lakewood. I had a bunch of other coins I wanted appraised, ten Kennedy Silver Half Dollars pre 1969. Three old worn silver dimes from 1917 and the guy on the other side of the table lines them up on his little white board and snaps a picture. First thing we see here that none of these are graded or rated. None of these are mint quality or collector packaged.

He held up my Dad’s 1921 Silver Dollar and said this is a very common coin. I pulled out the advertisement and said then why is it valued at $5,000. He said that is the maximum value. It does have value he says. Let me do some calculations and see what I can give you. He starts plugging away at his calculator on his clip board for ten minutes. He says I can give you $28 for all of them and shoves the clip board in front of me and says sign here. I blew a fuse. I started to collect back my coins when he says hold on what were you hoping for? All I could say was not that! He said wait! I can call HQ and see what they can do. He jumps on the phone and he’s got me for another ten minutes. He hangs up the phone and with a big smile says they were very generous and have nearly doubled the offer and for $44 we’ll take the lot. Sign here and this offer is limited to today only. I said, “double of $28 is $56 no thank you.” Scooped up my Dad’s old coins and went home. What a knucklehead I am. I think what my Dad would have done in that situation. He wouldn’t have been as polite. He would have gotten really mad. My Dad did not suffer fools easily. On the long drive home I thought a lot about being a dumbdumbdaddyo and I held that 1921 Silver Dollar in my hand the whole way. I felt a closeness to my Dad I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. As I held it it warmed. I had a pocket full of silver from my Dad. Infinitely more valuable than $44, his jersey number was 44. It was his favorite number.  I was thankful I was more curious than desperate and could turn down the offer. My Dad was number 7 in baseball and 44 in football, his whole career. Every password or code my Dad ever used was 744. Those were my Dad’s numbers.

On the phone with my wife she said it was one of those if it’s too good to be true things!

I said it was one of those dumb dumb daddy-o things!

Dumb Dumb Daddy-O: Soundtrack #1

Dumb Dumb Daddy-O: Soundtrack #1

My friend Thomas...

...was a fellow Viking Hurler back in high school. He is now on his thirteenth visit to the south pole. Here are some incredible pictures he's been sharing! Inspiring! He is my first follower. And my only follower not counting my wife and the little cartoon guy. God's speed Thomas.

Letter from the grave.

This letter was written to be delivered to us kids if my parents did not return from one of their global travels. I think my dad wrote it before their trip to China as part of the Nixon envoy. First official American visit or something crazy like that. My Mom said everyone wanted to touch her hair. First blonde woman any of them had ever seen. She said your father at 6' 3" was a giant and you could see him in the crowd from blocks away.

Not so heart warming. Looks like I never listened very well. Ever. Nice, "do what they say better than you do for us" crack! I what, 2 or 3!

Letter 2

Bootsie and me

Bootsie and me were the same age. She died when she was 12. We were in Ocean Pines for the summer and had dropped her off at the Vets to be groomed and when we got back to pick her up was told she had died from a stroke. My Mom cried hard. She cried too hard for her to be able to start the car. We sat there a cried for a while and then we went home.

I remember back in Cleveland Bootsie got sprayed by a skunk! I remember my Dad soaking her in a big metal tub with about 20 cans of tomato juice to help wash out the smell. For weeks she smelled of skunky tomato juice.

I remember my dad calling Bootsie into the garage from across the street. She came running full speed into the garage and in full stride smashed headfirst into the close inside door to the house. She bounced off knocking herself out and landing in a sprawl unconscious in a pile of upturned bikes. I thought she was dead. My Dad scooped her up in his arms and by the time he got her to the coach she had come to whimpering.

I remember him looking at me  with sincere pain in his yes. He said, "Your Dumb Dumb Daddy-o didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't even think that could happen!"

Boots, best first dog ever!

Readers Digest article from 1954 in the Wood Box! The Power of Love.

I didn't realize my Dad was such a student of love. The lesson of the trans formative power of love he taught me with his letter to my Mom after the Gator Bowl when he confessed to, for the first time in his life, wanting to make something of himself was inspiring. This lesson I am still trying to absorb. This article was published three years before my eldest sister Carol was born. I'm sure from the moment he tore it out and put in his little wood box he had decided definitively that he wanted kids and the sort of powerful love the author of this article speaks. I feel it too. The love I have for my wife and children is powerful, life giving, life sustaing, magical. My Dad has this love. He loved us. He loved me. It feels good realize this. To see it articulated in a 67 year old Readers Digest article.