How 93-Year-Old Williston Men Spend Their Weekends -- February 9, 2015

I interrupted my blogging for awhile earlier this morning to give my dad a call. My notes regarding the call:

I just spoke with my dad; chipper as ever. 

Celebrated his 94th birthday over the weekend; he says he couldn't keep up with all the cards and letters he got. I told him he needs to write back to all those folks and tell them to put a dollar bill in each of the cards next year. LOL. He said they would probably put in two dollars.

Still going into work every day. When I call the office, I always call the front desk and ask if Carl is in. If he is, they always say, "I'll check for you. I don't know if he's in yet." He's "trained" them to say that -- they have to walk all the way back to his office in the back to see if he wants to talk to whoever is calling. LOL.

Sometimes they say "he is too busy to talk right now." But he always takes my calls. LOL. 94 years old and "too busy to talk right now."

I think he spends most of his time figuring out what he would do if he wins the $450 million Powerball. 

Update: I "mis-remembered." He is "only" 93 years old this weekend. I guess it only feels like hearing his stories about Newell, South Dakota, for 94 years. LOL. 

[Some of my fondest memories are of visiting Newell, SD, when I was growing up in Williston, and then camping in the Black Hills. My dad loved seeing the kids have fun. I remember him driving me to the highest point in the Hills that he could drive the car, and then let me ride my bike at full speed down the "mountain." I must have been about nears old at the time. Twenty-five years later I watched our older daughter ski down at break-neck speed in the Austrian Alps and remembered that bike ride.]

The Motor-sickle Song, Arlo Guthrie