Happy Birthday Papa!

Papa deserves a novel or a short story and certainly more than a silly little blog entry. My dad is the most brilliant, amazing, funny human being on earth. He can do anything and knows something about everything. Next time you see him, just ask him. Ask him about how to change the oil in an 84 Peugeot, how to install plumbing, what constellation is in the sky, what kind of rock you are holding, what trees grow in Georgia, what chemical element has the abbreviation Lu, how does electricity work, to define propinquity , but do not ask him if your outfit matches!

Growing up with Carl Davis as a dad was by far one of the greatest gifts I have been given in life. I shared him a lot with other kids, but never knew it. I never really thought about the fact that he spent all day with a bunch of loud, obnoxious kids, but came home ready to play with me. He called me Bean until I was in high school and begged him to stop. He would stand at the bottom of the staircase and yell, "Hey Bean" and when he did this, I knew it was something good. He had brought some reptile home from school or had discovered something unusual in our backyard. I would bound down the stairs and follow close behind him.

We had a farm out in Reed Creek, where they now live. We would often ride out there in the afternoons for Dad to attend to something or another. Or just to check the fish basket (US Army Corps of Engineers, don't check the dock at Crane's Creek). He would stop at this little gas station at the 4-way stop and let me get a coke and a candy bar! This was a very, very big deal. Mama didn't let us have stuff like this. We would get IBC Root Beer if they had it and I would get a Watchamacallit and Dad, a Snickers. The only thing was, I hated the combination of Coke and a candy bar. It's disgusting. The Coke was way too sweet with the chocolate and the Coke was such a new thing, it would make me belch and make my eyes water and I couldn't enjoy the pleasures of chocolate with carbonation in my mouth. I still can't. I guess milk and a candy bar would not have been as much fun. One time we stopped at the Bait Store and got Potato Boats and Bait. They each came in the same type of container. We would walk through the woods and Dad would teach me survival skills and how to live like a Native American, what plants I could eat or not eat, how to identify poison ivy and how to cast a rod and reel.

Carla says we she was little he read Greek Mythology to her. To me, he read Uncle Remus. We would do flips in the backyard. He would lie on his back, with legs bent, feet on the ground and I would run as fast as I could, lunge my hands on his feet, into a front handspring. He would grab my waist as I came up and over and push me up and out and far as he could. I would sail so high, legs and arms flailing. It was so exhilarating and so much fun.

He is absent-minded. Addicted to coffee. His grilled cheese sandwiches are burned on the outside and the cheese so thick it stays cold on the inside. He is deaf in one ear. He replies to most things with a somewhat interested, "Humpf?"

He's the smartest man on the planet and he is 59 today! Oh shoot. I just remembered I forgot to call!!! Shoot! Oh no. It's 11:00! I will call him in the morning. He won't mind. He's also the most laid back man on the planet.

Love you Dad.