I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America...
One of the first vivid memories of my father is at age four, rising when he would, slipping out of my room and waiting on the stairs of our Hibiscus pink townhouse on base at Fort Shafter in Honolulu, Oahu Hawaii. This was a morning ritual. It was always early, just before daybreak and I would sit on the fourth step from the bottom and watch the moonlight wink bright and gleaming gold through the windows across the room and the shadows of the palm trees outside the window would dance their own unique Hula on the wall above me. The soft breeze from those open windows would tickle my cheeks and the air would swirl with the scent of Hawaiian Ginger and tuberose. In my minds eye I could always see island fairies dancing on the air.
My bare feet pressed down on the cool Koa wood step and I hugged my arms around the coffee colored pajamas with tiny ballerinas melted like Degas dancers into the soft cotton fabric. The Pledge of Allegiance was my morning mantra while waiting on him to come. Daddy would start down the stairs and every morning he would pretend to be surprised to find me there. His voice a loud whisper so as not to wake Mama or my younger sister, Kathy.
“Who is that little tow headed monkey sitting on my steps?”
I would giggle and slip against the wall so he could sit next to me and lace on his black boots and tuck his crisp starched khaki’s into those boots. His morning smell was always fresh from the shower Dial soap and Barbersol Shaving cream, with a hint of Crest mint toothpaste.
Every morning was the same. He would ask me to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I would smile, begin with a rush and tumble and occasional skip of a word, he would nod, softly correct me when I stumbled. At the end of my recitation, he would pat me on the head, we would stand, me waiting until he got the to door. He would give a sharp salute, I would mimic his as best I could, the door would close and I would ease back upstairs to my bed and wait until the bugle blowing Reveille sounded loud and brassy clear on the parade grounds visible from our bedroom window. That was the signal for my day to begin.
This was, and still is, a deeply cherished memory that in retrospect represents an idealized moment in time with him. Much of who I am this day I owe to this hardworking, loyal and deeply committed man. His word was ALWAYS his bond. He lived his life in a fashion that has me asking myself on occasion what would Daddy do? This Father's Day will be Seventeen years since he died but I miss him still. His was the GREATEST GENERATION and the world is a better place today because of men like him. That is his greatest legacy.
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