Happy Birthday

John Edward Crews would have been 93 yesterday, had he not died in early December, 1984, shortly before his 70th birthday. He never saw me graduate from college or get my law degree or make it to a successful and happy marriage. But I hear his voice in my head whenever I do something good or right. He always tells me I'm a good girl.

We shared no DNA, no blood in our veins, but I pride myself on being his daughter. I look for characteristics within myself that mirror those in him. Once, while searching for my birthmother, I learned that he had known her, she had been a patient of his practice. I got this notion that maybe he was my father and that it had been covered up all those years. In response to my question of whether he was my birthfather, he replied, "No, but I wish I had been."

He was known by various names: Doodle to his sons, Daddy to me, Pakum ("PAH-kuhm") to his beloved grandsons, Dr. Crews to his friends, Jay to Mother, and Jake (for his initials, JEC) to his brothers and sister. He left the house at 6:00 a.m. every day to make rounds at Florida Sanitarium & Hospital. He would usually arrive home at 11:00 p.m. My sophomore year in high school I had to catch the bus at 6:00 a.m. and he'd drive me two miles to the shopping center where the bus would pick me up. We'd sit in the car and talk for ten minutes. That was the most time I ever spent with him in my life, and I loved every minute of it.

He always stood up for me. We lived on Lake Maitland, and my brothers, five and seven years older than I, were avid and skilled water skiers. But they couldn't be bothered with their little sister. Daddy would always make sure they gave me a chance to go skiing, and frequently on his Wednesday afternoons off, he'd pilot the boat to pull me around the lake.

He was an avid antique collector and patients would frequently tell him of a clock or a fabulous chandelier that he needed to see. My clock collection and the gorgeous light fixtures in my living and dining rooms are constant reminders of his good taste.

He was an impeccable dresser. The walk-in closet in the house my parents built in 1951 had skinny drawers just to hold all his ties. He collected old cars. We had, at various times, a 1915 Model T, a 1927 Model A, and a 1938 Chevy that he had restored and upgraded with rolled-and-pleated leather upholstery in the trunk and a Corvette engine under the hood. Recently I spoke to an old boyfriend from high school who said, "I should have paid more attention to Dr. Crews' daughter than to his cars."

He turned into a different person when his grandsons were born. Never were two children more cherished and loved than by this man who had been so busy and absent through his children's early lives. When Tyler was born and had many health problems, Daddy would leave the office early three days a week and stop by my house to just hold and rock and observe Tyler. After Terry and I moved to Texas and then divorced, Daddy made it a point to call them every Saturday morning, to maintain their special relationship across the miles. When Scott/TJ was around two, Daddy drove a Chevy Blazer and would always have Scott sit on the elevated console between the two front seats. He called it the "Buddy Seat." (Long before the days of mandatory seat belts!) He loved teaching them to fish and taking them for rides on the lawn tractor at the cottage on Lake Mabel.

You wonder how I stay so energized and keep so many projects going. Here was my model: After a long day standing over the operating room table, Daddy would relax by overstimulation. He would sit on the recliner in his den, jazz on the stereo, a ball game on the TV, and a crossword puzzle in his lap.

When Daddy was a small child, he got tonsillitus. His parents were too poor to have his tonsils removed, so it developed into rheumatic fever and severely damaged his heart. His first heart attack came at age 58. He ultimately died of heart disease.

The three quotes that I remember the most were these:

1) "Don't believe anything you hear and only half of what you see." (I always thought this was directly from his mouth. Years later I learned that the quote is variously attributed to Will Rogers or Mark Twain. Now as I Google it, I learn the actual quote is: "Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear." The author is Dinah Mulock Craik, a British author and poet, who wrote these words in 1858.

2) "The two biggest obstacles a child has to growing up are his parents."

3) "You may be right." (Ever the diplomat, when someone said something to him that he thought was laughable, stupid or downright wrong, he would gently say, "You may be right.")

And I'll leave you with more words from Dinah Mulock Craik, from her novel "A Life for a Life", published in 1859.

Oh, the comfort --
The inexpressible comfort of feeling
safe with a person,
Having neither to weigh thoughts,
Nor measure words -- but pouring them
All right out -- just as they are --
Chaff and grain together --
Certain that a faithful hand will
Take and sift them --
Keep what is worth keeping --
and with the breath of kindness
Blow the rest away.