Happy birthday, dad!

Got a text from my youngest nephew letting me know that there will be a dinner celebrating my dad’s birthday and that I was invited.

After reserving the closest Zipcar to me (4 miles away), missing a bus that turned the wrong way and missed my stop, then having to walk a half-mile to catch another bus and having to walk another half mile to actually get to the car, then having to put gas in the car (curse you, whoever had the car before me!), well, I was late.

But I was there in time for cake! Dad got chocolate chocolate cake with chocolate chips in the frosting, yum.

Got to hear more stories of my sister and my birthday. Mostly my sister’s – apparently mom and dad were living on N. Vancouver when my sister was born in November ’63, and the taxi driver who took them to the hospital (St. Vincent’s, which was off of West Burnside) was very very nervous the entire ride. Dad was working in a camera store at the time, and they did not have a car. Luckily dad’s friend lent him a dark blue 1963 Corvette Stingray to bring mom and baby Lisa home. I believe that was a split-window coupe that year. Damn. No, my sister did not have a child-safety seat; she just rode home behind the passenger seat. Ah, those were the days…

Dad did not tell any stories about his own birthday, unfortunately.

Happy birthday, dad!