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     I guess I'm way over due at thanking my old man for dealing with all those crazy years I dished out. To say that we sometimes clashed would be an understatement. I could be a downright nuisance!
     There's no gift on this planet that's deserving for what he went through. I won't stop with me. That little, feisty mom of mine can defiantly be a handful. When you throw in the two daughters, it's amazing the man hasn't checked into a mental hospital! I guess it's fair to say that dad was the glue that held the family together and that's some mighty strong adhesive!
     Fatherhood has got to be one of the most difficult, yet rewarding blessings. One minute, he's got to come home and punish a child for something he didn't witness. The next, Pop is giving away daughters to men he can only hope and pray will treat them as he did.
     Speaking of--I'm always reminiscing with some pretty good laughs of dad and his girls. Nothing quite as interesting as the "teaching Missy to drive" saga. Cutting to the chase, this was always finalized with her in tears, dad frustrated and me in the back seat laughing with a slight case of whiplash!     Then there's the infamous "beauty shop crisis" involving Jill (his oldest). One day she hysterically ran in the house with a head of hair that made Marilyn Monroe's look dark! Pop runs to the nearest beauty shop and comes back with some sort of formula that would have made Elizabeth Taylor's look light.
     This fiasco was almost taken from one extreme to the other until mom strolled in to save the day. If she could have only been a few more minutes late.
     Now that I've covered a few of their quick stories, it would probably be appropriate to share one of mine. You can forget that--there's too many! I will admit that I'm consistently reminded of what a hyper, "all over the place" terror I was. Those were the younger years--I shall not attempt to justify the high school days. To all of those youngsters who think dad doesn't have a clue--he does and you better start to appreciate it! You need to either go ahead and understand this or learn the hard way. My guess is you'll choose the latter like we all do.
     The point behind this article is to salute these fathers for their ability to juggle so many difficult situations. That's the amazing feature about my Old Man. He's always dropped whatever to run to our rescue. I don't believe he's ever missed a single project any of his children have taken on. Keep in mind--many have been pretty corny! I dragged him out for wrestling (I was young), tennis, batting practice, golf, ridiculous movies and many other events that only made the man beg for his recliner. You guessed it—Pop would have rather kissed a goat on the lips than participate in these activities, but he was always a trooper. He even devoted time for heavy gasping during my moms aerobics classes. This man is a miracle!
     With all that said, I look forward to the day when I can appreciate fatherhood. To be able to finally think, "man, I know what he had to tolerate." I hope the saying, "what goes around comes around" doesn't find me. If I can do half the job he did, it'll be a success! To all you men out there who share the gift of being a dad--I hope you have a great Father's Day--you deserved it!!! Don't know what you got until it's gone (Grandparents) .
     Lately, I've been having a lot of thoughts about the saying "you don't know what you got until it's gone." I've associated this with my grandparents. My Paw Paw, Maw Maw, Grandmother and Granddaddy have all moved on to a better place, leaving me with their wonderful memories.
     Sadly, three of the four left me at an early age. Time only allowed me to get close to my Dad's mother, Evelyn. A beautiful, honest lady that had a great appreciation for the smaller things in life. The other day we were thumbing through her journal (she gave permission to read) and came to Grandmother's notes on her final birthday party. She mentioned that we used cloth napkins. It warms my heart knowing that such insignificant items brought this women joy. Such a lady!
     Evelyn had a difficult life that was summed up with even more pain. She spent her last years dragging around tubes that were hooked to a breathing machine.

Emphysema is a cruel disease that slowly suffocates you. I tinkered around with smoking until I finally came to grips with the suffering that these sticks brought into her life. I don't blame the tobacco companies because it was her choice, but it sure is sad watching the agony. I hated every second of it!
     Boy, would it be a blessing to sit back, enjoy her country cooking and lend her my ears. You older folks have such wisdom that we can all learn from. If I could have her back, I guarantee I'd be more generous with my time! If you're fortunate enough to have your grandparents, pick the phone up and remind them of how you cherish their presence. I know you're upstairs reading this, Grandmother, and I can imagine that you have your "wrap" around that fragile body. Thanks for the amazing years and I long for the day when we can embrace again. I love and miss you! Going Home for the Holidays! (home for holidays)
     It's the time of season when family bonding is a must. Many may cringe at that thought, not this person. Christmas sends me to Tupelo, Mississippi for a huge Hodges gathering. My mother is the oldest of eight, which reminds me of what they say about Catholics and birth control. You'll have to take that up with their parents and they've moved on to a much better place. Anyway, we're an enormous Italian family that shares great admiration for our heritage (Vincent and Amelia Pera ventured over from Lucca, Italy in the early 1900s). So, you can imagine how this once a year celebration is received with loving loyalty.
     It really is impressive when you factor in where all these siblings come from. Leslie loads up the van and takes the trail from San Antonio. Pat hits the air in Atlanta, hooks up with Nell and they dash in via Memphis. The Stedman klan heads three hours north, while Johnny, Billy, Zeke and Margaret still call Tupelo home. When you mix in all the children, you've got one mega-shindig! I just did the math and it's about 38 of us. That's not counting a Great-aunt, boyfriends, girlfriends, and animals. Good grief (oxymoron)--that's more than I realized!
     I must now devote some mouthwatering thoughts to our Italian family recipe. This eatin' will twirl your taste buds into a tango! Uncle Billy, Margaret and Nell conjure up some one thousand ravioli (Sorry I left you out mom, but it's been a while since I've seen you fumbling around that kitchen). Once you smother this dish with a secret sauce, you've got a gut-pleasing gourmet feast. This uncle and aunt combo put some serious passion into their talent for cooking, which is eagerly anticipated! Then you've got the eating contest amongst the nephews which usually leaves several bloated in front of some random football game. Food is the number one ingredient to this immense festival--period!
     Now it's time to describe the ambiance that captures this place. Picture the five sisters sitting around showering one another with praise. A Mutual Admiration Society at its best, but they really are deserving of the compliments. Then you've got the sister-in-laws (Sherry, Judy and Karen) earning some serious kudos for adapting to this ritual. Before too long, I usually get tossed into the female mob as they donate love advice. When I finally get the nerve to bring a lady around this tribe--will she ever be critiqued!
     Now I'll discuss the connoisseurs of the family. You can always find Uncle Mike at the bar, sniffing and swirling a glass of Cabernet while his crowd gets an education on wine tasting. If you gaze just a little to the left, you should be able to see my dad and Uncle David polluting the air with cigar chat. They claim to be wizards of that tobacco topic. They're George Burns wannabes!
     If you ease out to the sun room, you'll usually stumble upon some great golf conversation with Uncle Johnny at the helm. If you take me out of the gene pool, this family "masters" that sport.
     Are you wondering where the LOUD music is coming from? That's Uncle Tommy blaring anything from Pavarotti to Aaron Neville. You can often find Uncle Zeke playing DJ as well. He's the smooth talking brother everyone refers to as "stud." This makes me laugh because my mom has some killer potty training stories on this "stud." Uh-oh, looks like one of the little rugrats is about to ram into the CD collection. By the way, there's nothing quite like the mixture of Italian Opera and crying babies!
     I've often heard that family are the only ones you can truly depend on in life. I'm obviously lucky for so many to count on! With that said, the warmth of Christmas is deeply consumed in all who call Tupelo home for the holidays. I love it!