The love in Daddy's hands

It's hard to believe, but my dad and his twin brother, Dwain, will be celebrating their 70th birthday tomorrow.

As far back as I can remember, the two of them have tried to fool someone -- usually their younger children -- into believing one was the other.

I can remember a few years ago when I was in North Platte with my folks doing some holiday shopping.

A gentleman about the same age as the twins walked up to my dad.

"Hey Barney, how's it going?" the gentleman asked. Dad responded and the conversation continued.

My mom and I walked into the store to do our shopping, knowing full well that once my dad got to talking, there was no stopping him.

We purchased our gifts and walked back out of the store to find Dad standing and talking to same gentleman. The conversation finally wrapped up.

"Who was that?" I asked Dad.

"I have no idea," he said. "He must have thought I was Dwain, he called me Barney."

In 1962, Mom and Dad's family had expanded to six. The decision was made to build a new house. During his "spare" time away from his job as a lineman for the REA in Cambridge, Dad worked on building the house I called home for 12 years of my life.

He spent evenings and weekends putting the house together. And we spent the next 12 years of happy family togetherness there before moving to a farm north of McCook.

Our Christmases were always filled with happiness, joy and fulfillment -- and Dad's ornery streak always seemed to sneak into the holiday season.

One year in particular comes to mind. It was the year we all got our brand new, shiny, banana seat bikes. Grandpa had told Dad to call him as soon as we got the bikes, he wanted to know how we liked them.

Mom and Dad sent us to bed early Christmas Eve, as was the custom. I don't know about Russell, Kathy and Linda, but I know I laid in bed for at least 20 minutes anxiously awaiting the arrival of Santa Clause before I finally drifted off.

Suddenly, Dad was standing in my doorway, telling me to wake up because Santa Clause had been there.

Four sleepy children walked into the living room at 2 o'clock in the morning to find the coolest banana seat bikes Santa Clause ever built in his workshop. Grandpa got his phone call at 2:30 in the morning and we went back to bed and dreamed of riding those banana seat bikes -- heaven knows we couldn't go outside to ride them for at least another six hours.

Dad retired from the REA in 1975 and worked on a farm for about four years. From there, he went to work for Electric Hose and Rubber. After 20 years he retired from Dayco and now, at the age of 70, he's working as a security guard for Parker.

In his spare time, he works with his younger brother Harold, doing dirt work around the area.

When I grow up, I hope to be just like him.

Happy birthday, Daddy.

-- I remember daddy's hands

folded silently in prayer

And reachin' out to hold me,

when I had a nightmare

You could read quite a story

in the callous' and lines

Years of work and worry

had left their mark behind

Daddy's hands were soft

and kind when I was cryin'

Daddy's hands were hard

as steel when I'd done wrong

Daddy's hands weren't always

gentle but I've come to understand

There was always love

in daddy's hands.

-- Recorded By Holly Dunn