Letters to my Stepdaughter

Back in November of 2012 I decided I wanted my step daughter get to know a little bit about me.  So, I wrote her a series letters on line.  Here is the first one.

It's time -- at least I think it is -- for you to get to know the one you call "step dad" – and I think I've heard you call me Pops once or twice.  Am I remembering correctly?  My daughters call me Pops.  My oldest daughter calls me Pops the Bops.  I guess because it rhymes.  But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

 I was born a long way from here in a lovely town in a valley next to the mountains in Idaho.  Idaho, the Southern part of Idaho in particular, was the real world to me. Most other places must have been weird, or just something that might be interesting to learn about. I mostly remember playing outside whenever I could. We played tag, army, cowboys and Indians, rode tricycles -- and then bikes --played hide and seek, built roads in the dirt piles, rang door bells and ran away, built forts, stole green apples off neighbors’ trees, played in the ditch, played in the sand box, swung on the swings, made a mixture we called "chop suey" and poured it on ant piles, caught honey bees, and, most importantly, played baseball.  That was the most serious part. Baseball was serious business and man did I have a temper if things went wrong.

  I was always the cute, red-headed kid and I hated it.  Now, being cute had its advantages because I could get away with a lot of stuff. But I could have done without the freckles.  Actually, I hated them. I only knew 3 or 4 people when I was growing up who had as many freckles as I. I was also a chronic bed wetter, and that was really embarrassing. I was about 13 or 14 before that came to an end. As you can imagine I never went on sleepovers. I guess everyone grows up with the fear that others are going to discover their "weird stuff".  If we really saw ourselves as we really are, we'd have more weird stuff than we think. I think I was normal wishing I could trade my weird stuff for somebody else's.  It would be much later in my life that I would discover -- no, God would reveal to me -- that we are all sinners who, as scripture says, "fall short of the Glory of God".  So in once sense I was no worse than anyone else when it came right down to it.  But that understanding came later.

 My family life was what probably would have been called the ideal American family.  Of course, there is really no such thing.  It was a pretty functional family. My parents just celebrated their 67th wedding anniversary. My Mom will be 90 in three months if the Lord gives her more days.  My 1st wife referred to my parents as Ward and June Cleaver.  But we were just a family. We kids fought like cats and dogs, and then we would turn around and protect and support each other.  I didn't realize at the time that divorce would become common place. I would never have thought that I and my two brothers and my sister would all end up with divorces.  But it happened.  But back then it wasn't an issue. 

  But Junior high was an issue. Yikes.  The seventh grade and I'm in a school with 9th graders, some of whom looked like adults. I hated the 7th and 8th grades, but life seemed to get better in the 9th grade.  Why?  Well, I'll have to tell you tomorrow 'cause I've done reached my writing limit for the evening.  I hope you've gotten some pleasure out of learning a little bit more about Step Dad.  If time cooperates with opportunity, I’ll write you some more tomorrow.  Meanwhile, I pray for God’s blessing in your life.