World of Wayne

My original intention for starting this blog was to introduce the world to my Dad.  I understand that most people who read this most likely know him, but you may not know him the way I do. 

wayne

As I told you in my first post , I'm a preachers kid.  My brother Jeremy read a statistic that the average time a pastor stays with the same church is typically 7 years... my Dad stayed with the same church for 30 years.   I'm not quite 30 years old, so if you do the math, he's been at this thing since before I was born.   

Now, if Jeremy is anything like his little sister, he could have very well made up that statistic. I like to rattle off fake statistics to give weight to an argument, but I have to be careful and only do that when I'm 100% sure that no one is going to look it up on-the-spot and call me on my bull.  It's gotten tough lately with the invention of the iPhone. Everyone has the truth at their fingertips and I can hardly get away with lying at all anymore. If I ever go on a camping trip (not likely) in the mountains (even less likely) with no cell phone service at all, I am going to spend the entire trip making up fake information and using fake statistics to back it up and no one will be able to confirm anything and everyone will talk about how smart I am and how much I must read a lot of books to learn all of those stats and how awesome it is that I'm not only able to read so much, but also retain all of that information with a full time job and a baby at home.  It's going to be amazing. 

I practically lived in my parents church when I was growing up.  Saturday outreach, Sunday morning service, Sunday night service, Wednesday night service, Friday night would always be some kind of "youth (insert exciting word here)".. could be explosion, extravaganza, party, lock-in, something involving pizza and/or roller skates.  I wouldn't change a thing about any of that either. I don't have a single complaint about growing up under a church pew. I learned how to sing and I learned how to pray. 

pastor and his mrs.

My dad taught me about fun.  He absolutely lives for a thrill, especially involving some element of danger.  It's not fun unless someone could get hurt really bad, right? Example: 

My brother Steve took my Dad on a Segway Tour in Eden Park

He learned quickly, but Eden Park has lots of hills... 

When he started to go down, he bailed out.  He got up and finished the tour...

found out later that he had broken his ankle and spent the entire summer like this... totally worth it if you ask him. 

Dad taught me about the importance of vacation.  He calls it BYEEEEE-cation (say it real loud and hold the byyyyyeee part out for about 8 seconds and then follow the whole thing up with a ear-piercing whistle).  Our vacations were usually decided on around 9pm and we'd pack up, drive all night and wake up some place sunny and warm.  I don't have a picture of it, but my favorite dad memory is the time we drove to Daytona beach in the middle of the night and Dad took the seats out of the back of our van and loaded in his favorite blue recliner.  I slept in the backward facing recliner (totally safe and legit) all the way there and when we arrived, he parked on the beach, took out the recliner and watched the waves from his favorite chair.  Passers by stopped to take pictures and I knew for sure that my dad was the coolest and had the best ideas. ever. 

It's important when taking pictures that you put your arms out to show how much fun you're having.

Another favorite thing that my dad does is accents.  He doesn't have an accent, but he  wholeheartedly believes that when speaking to someone that does, it's important that you mimic their accent so they can understand you better.  This always goes really well. Our friend Cedric is an African American guy and I always knew when my dad was talking to him on the phone because it went a little something like this "Ayyyyyyyye Cedric, my brotha.. how's it shakin' brotha? How you feelin CedRIICCCCC.. ayyyeeee brothaaaaa".  Sister Francis was a tiny Filipino lady from his church who owned an Asian food store - when talking to her it was "Ayyyyyyyeee Seeester FrancEES.. Seeester FrancEES, how is the store going??" but he talked so loud that her ears would ring. It was necessary because she had an accent so she obviously had hearing problems too, right? :) The best part was when Jason and I were dating and I explained to Dad that although Jason looks white, he's actually Hispanic (blew his mind) and that I wanted to introduce him to Jason's mom.  Jason's mom has ZERO accent and speaks perfect English, but because I'd told him she was Hispanic, he addressed her in the same way he would talk to SEEEEESTER FRANCEEEEEES, real loud and really close to her so she could understand him past the non-existent accent that was clogging up her hearing.  Fantastic day.

Santa Claus 2011.  He makes Christmas magical.

Even when he's in the hospital, the fun never stops.

I have so many more things to post about Dad and they'll be more to come.  I leave you with a quote from him from yesterday after describing that my house has two entrances, a front entrance from the street and one from the back alley.

"Hannah, that house was designed to be a crack house back in the day so when the heat would show up, BAM!!! they could scatter out both exits!!" 

translation: hannah, you live in OTR and all the crack dealers that used to live in your house could run out both entrances when the police (the heat) show up.  

Things I know for sure: Dad loves the Lord.  Dad loves my mom and the rest of our family.  Dad loves his church and Dad has never met a stranger.  Don't you change a thing, daddy.  You are the best.