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I dedicate this blog in memory of my father. I have always wanted an outlet to share my memories of him, many of which include great "teaching" moments. Anyone who knew my father, would definitely agree that he had a great sense of humor, and what I would call, a "gift", for taking complex situations and making them very clear. Although he was "Dad" to me, he would always sign himself "With Love, Your Father."

Sunday, February 21, 2010

TRIVIA CHALLENGE

My dad liked games. All kinds. Football, basketball, baseball, blackjack, poker, craps, queens... Think he enjoyed the competition, thrill of the victory, escape from stress, comraderie that they all brought. Many of my memories with him as a young adult, revolved around some type of game; Trivial Pursuit was one of his favorite board games, and although it was a bit too challenging for us young kids, he found a way to make it FUN and relevant.

It started with long drives, like to Disneyland or Tahoe, as a way to make the time pass, keep us quiet and actually "enjoy" each other's company. But then we wanted to play it all the time... Anytime we got in the car. And although I played the "Alphabet"game or "Punch Buggy" with many of my friends, it was different when we were with Mr. Stroup. Inside the maroon Cadillac and later the taupe Audi, you had to be ready for the Ulitimate Trivia Challenge:
  • Choose from his categories: Entertainment, Sports, Math, Science, History, English, Spelling. He would make up different ones all the time. You couldn't pick the same category twice in row.
  • Pick the amount of points you wanted: 5, 10, 15, 20. The more points you seeked, the harder the question.
  • You had 30 seconds from the time he asked the question to come up with the answer. If you didn't get it, or were wrong, someone else could guess it for half points.
  • Play until somebody got to 100 or whatever amount he decided.

Dad was the creator of all the questions.

"I'll take Entertainment for 20."

He would take a few moments to come up with the question, while us kids were all giddy about what it would be. Would I get it right? "How many points do you have?" We'd ask each other. Dad was the official scorekeeper so nobody could exaggerate their winnings.

After much thought and making sure the question was appropriate for the person and the points, he would say, "In the movie Indian Jones-Raiders of the Lost Ark, what was the lead character after?"

If no one could get it, he'd give us a hint. Not a simple hint like, "It starts with an A," but a hint that was even more challenging to decipher than the actual question. Something like, "A canine's language without the B and an agreement with the highest being." Yes, this was his creative method to get us to shout out, "The Ark of the Covenant."

We were in awe when we would play this game. "How does he know SO much about SO many different things?" We would ask ourselves. It honestly felt like there was nothing we could ask him to which he did not know the answer.

And how much FUN he was...He made everything FUN! Not in a romper room, kindergarten teacher or patronizing way, but in a sincere, mature manner that made you feel like he genuinely enjoyed being around YOU. Just one of the qualities everyone loved about him, and why you'll hear many of our childhood friends say, "I loved Mr. Stroup...He was so much FUN!"













Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Angels Among Us

My father's passing was a tragedy at the time- a sudden death, heart attack in Reno, Nevada. I can remember the day like it was yesterday. It truly was a very sad day for many, but especially for his eight children and loving wife. "What a profound moment to see six sons carry their father's casket," I remember Father Rocha saying at the funeral. Even though the loss has not gotten any less significant after 15 years, I can definitely now appreciate the growth and maturity that came with losing someone so very meaningful in my life, and I know my dad continues to "teach" me even in his absence...

I don't remember ever feeling as close to my siblings as I did the week immediately following our father's death. Sitting around the kitchen table and sharing stories, laughing hysterically one moment, and seconds later, breaking down in tears. We understood each other like no one else did or could at that time, and there was nothing that felt as safe and comforting as being together.

Just days after he died, we sat in the family room at 1833 Lincoln Blvd.- some on the couch, some on the floor-us eight kids and mom. Extended family members and friends were comforting each other in other parts of the house, while us nine, planned his funeral. Most of the focus was on the songs to be played. After getting "special" approval from Father Rocha to have "commercial" songs in the church, we had big decisions to make. What songs? And at what point? James Taylor was a "no brainer"; Dad loved him; we had listened to James Taylor the whole ride to Reno. He also loved, The Rose, by Bette Midler. We all liked the The Dance by Garth Brooks, but we still needed one more-a communion song.

After leaving the room for a few moments, my older brother Chris came back in with a tape recorder. With passion that I had not seen from him in a long time, he said, "I have a really good song." He pressed play and the voices of Alabama started talking- not singing, talking. Felt like Dad was speaking to us, comforting us. It was surreal. Then the voices of small children started singing. I got chills. It was the perfect song- Angels Among Us.

My older brother James is the "tech guy" of the bunch. He made a tape of all the songs and then copied it for all of us. Making copies of songs in 1995 was not that easy! LOL! It required a two-tape player with a "Record" button. No Itunes, IPOD or CD's for that matter. The tape was titled, "Ninny Papa Songs," which was the endearing name that the grandkids had given Dad; there were six at the time; now, there's 24!

We all had that tape in our cars, apartments, houses, etc. and played those songs all the time. It just helped. I think because it kept us connected, and took us back to that night at 1833 Lincoln Blvd., when for a short awhile, all we did was think about Dad...together.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

The "Letter"

It will be 15 years this coming weekend since my father's passing. I find it fitting for my first blog to share with you excerts from a letter that I read at his funeral. It was written by my father when I went away to college at UCSB (four years before his passing). Although it was written to me, my siblings and I felt it truly represented the type of person my dad was, the way he parented us and the beliefs he wished to pass on.

"...You are embarked on a new journey, a new way of life. I hope you believe me when I tell you that the same fundamental principles and basic beliefs that have brought you to this point will also carry you through this period of your life. Most importantly, you must continue to believe in yourself and to chart your own course; not selfishly, or with an eye towards acceptance by others, but with a genuine desire to be all that you can be as a person. I know that this sounds very simple, but sometimes what appears simple in theory can be very difficult in practice.

For the rest of your life you are going to be asked to make choices, and those choices will often appear confusing. They are not confusing, they only appear confusing. It is important that you remember this. Whenever you are confused, it is because you are not seeing clearly. What was precious and enduring to you as a child will be just as precious and enduring to you as an adult. When this does not appear true, you can be assured that you are not seeing clearly.

Life is essentially good, people are essentially good, and most of all, you are essentially good. The surface of life will shift and move, and at times, you feel lost in the storm; but underneath, fundamentally, life does not change and what is truly you does not change. It is only your perception that changes.

...Expect great things of yourself, and expect great things of other people. Greatness is a matter of perception. Your world will become what you believe it to be. I know that this seems incredible, but you can change the world by your perception of it. If you are compassionate, you will be understood; if you are generous, you will be cared for; if you are loving, you will be loved; if you help others succeed in their lives, you will succeed in your own life. This is the real irony of life. Some people never understand this until they are old and near death. I have now seen enough old and dying people to this is true.

From this point on in your life, the influence on you of me and your mother wil gradually diminish. I am saddened by this, but I know this is the way that it should be. No one can live your life for you; we all must find our own way in the world. What you do with your life and what you become matters only to the extent that it brings you happiness and peace. You will always have my love and support.

With Love,

Your Father"