Did A Little Birdie Tell You?

Daddy making goard birdhouses in his workshop

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  Daddy and Buck
  
  

  Daddy and Katie - 1986
  
  
  

  
  Me - pregnant with Katie - and Daddy in front of our trailer at NOBTS.

  1985
  
  

  1974
  
  

  My friend from work who suffered an aneurysm a month ago called me today and she is doing great. She had some vision issues and her eyesight has improved to 20 - 25. I believe she has experienced a miracle. I told someone that I felt that loosing your sight would be one of the hardest things to adapt to. The person I was talking to said, no, the worst thing is loosing your memory. I thought about it and decided that it may be difficult for those around you to see you loosing your memory, but would you be aware that it was happening? I hope not.

  
  I started thinking of my daddy. He died eleven years ago last month. In the last months of his life, I believe he started to repeat himself - alot. He would tell you something and then in a hour or two tell the same story again. It was a terrible feeling to see him slip away. In those last months of life, he became obsessed with his high school football team. In his senior year, the high school football team won the state championship. The year he died, the school once again won the state championship. It had been over 60 years between championships!
  
  The local newpaper put his team picture in the paper. My dad cut it out and showed to everyone. I picked him out of the group. If my studio was not so disorganized, I could find that picture and post it here. But, I don't know where it is and no, my memory is fine.
  
  Over the years, I had heard my daddy talk about playing football in high school. The coach was a tough guy named Coach Morgan. Coach Morgan was a bachelor when he started coaching the team, but he met a sweet, youthful teacher from the school, fell in love and married during the year. I imagine to a team of 17 year old boys, that must have been a wonder to behold and ponder in their spare hours. I think Daddy thought they were a very odd couple.
  
  Daddy told me about a conversation the boys overheard between Coach Morgan and the new Mrs. Morgan. I sort of imagine that Coach Morgan looked like a life size Popeye, but not as fun. I never saw him, but Daddy said he sort of talked out of the side of his mouth. My daddy would do a Coach Morgan impersonation. Coached asked the Mrs. "How do you know, did a little birdie tell you?" For some reason my daddy thought that was so funny. I guess you really had to know the Coach to appreciate the humor in that story. I believe I got my memory genes from him. If I am taking after Daddy, I have about 30-something years, before it starts failing me.
  
  As Daddy continued to loose his memory, he was diagnosed with some serious blockage that was possibly contributing to the loss of memory. He took an ambulance ride to the hospital and never returned home. It was a very risky surgery for him, but the alternative was for him to just stay in the house and not exert himself in any way. For my daddy, that would have been torture. The cardiologist, performed the surgery, and there were many complications and Daddy went to the CICU.
  
  Family members and friends would gather outside the doors waiting for those few minutes every hour when you were allowed to go in and visit the patient. As we were waiting by the doors, we learned that in the same CICU was Coach Morgan's wife. The coach had died many years earlier and his widow was right there in the same unit with Daddy. It was such an ironic chain of events. Coach and Mrs. Morgan had one daughter and she was driving in from somewhere in the midwest. Mrs. Morgan had church friends checking on her until the daughter arrived. I spoke to the daughter, and told her that Daddy was on Coach Morgan's team the year they won the state championship and that he spoke of it often in his last months.
  
  Daddy suffered several complications and died. He never really woke up after surgery. We all waited for one last glimpse of recognition from him, but it did not happen. However, I think very fondly of those final days in the waiting area of the CICU. I still miss him. I don't think I will ever stop missing him, the sadness gets less painful and the memories bring you more joy.
  
  I am certain I don't want to loose my vision. I want to always think I have a great memory and please, no one tell me if starts to slip away.