This is a page about my dad. He worked for Coca-Cola for 36 years and had amazing muscles due to him lifting those Coke bottles in wood crates. He was a strong man in more ways than one. Thanks for looking.

Katie Pertiet: Roughed Up Solids Black Cherry, Notebook Edged Photo Masks #2, Colored Film Strips

Anna Aspnes: clipping masks, loopdaloop, frame, tape

Fonts: CK Magnificent, Century Schoolbook

Journaling reads: When Dad was born, he had ecsema and it spread over his entire body. It itched terribly and he was always scratching, many times to the point of bleeding. It had become so bad that Grandpa had Grandma tie his hands to the bed to stop him (according to Aunt Betty). I can’t imagine that kind of torture. As he grew older, and new medicines became available, the ecsema diminished and was only left on his hands. Once we bought Charlie, our saint bernard, he let him lick on his hands as much as he wanted. It helped to heal his skin.
That’s so amazing to me!

Life in the 40s was so different than it is now. He did the typical things that teens do growing up; dating, movies, and cruising. His car and boat were his pride and joy. Uncle Bill Astroth sold his 1932 Plymouth to Dad. He used it to pull his boat. He always wanted a Criss Craft, though. Dad was a very good water skier. His skis were yellow and green striped wood. I don’t know what happened to them but do remember seeing them, as a child, for years, stored above the basement steps.

When the draft came about, Dad was rejected by the military due to several health reasons, two being asthma and emphasema. It was a shameful thing in his generation to be rejected, but he had a buddy, Hank, who regularly wrote to him and on occasion would send a picture. Dad saved all his letters and now I have them.

Dad had told me he always wanted to be a draftsman but couldn’t do it because he couldn’t breathe the chemicals used to process blue prints. He ended up making his career at Coca-Cola as a driver/salesman. He could do math in his head so fast from all the years of writing tickets. He also had absolutely beautiful handwriting. I loved how he would write the number 2. Sometimes I write mine in a similar way, and it always makes me think of him.

I have fond memories of him growing tomatoes, singing to Tony Bennett songs and taking us to the Teamster Camp to swim and enjoy the Coke picnics. My not-so-fond memories of him were the annual vacations to Colorado. He loved the majesty of the mountains, the snow, the cold, clean air, and feeding chipmunks and birds. Visiting the Royal Gorge was a must. What I got from those vacations was totally car sick every day. Is it any wonder that I hate mountains?!

I think he became a changed man once Danny was born. He was shy about holding him as an infant, but as he grew, Dad would have given him the world. He made the most amazing pioneer wagon that almost fit Danny’s crib mattress. It made a wonderful toy box and had movable axles so it could roll. The tailgate opened and shut. He gave it to him on his 3rd birthday and when he uncovered it, he looked at me and said, “Gotcha!” I started to cry (happy tears) and it made him cry, too. He created the wagon from scratch from a tiny, 1” picture he found in a woodworking magazine. It was made from pine and clear coated. The wheels were even made of wood. It’s amazing!

Dad’s health started to fail in about 1994. He had lung problems which led to a collapsed lung and eventually he died from congestive heart failure on December 21st, 1996. We had his funeral on Christmas Eve. It’s hard to forget the date. Christmas has never been or will be the same.

You left this world too soon. You were only 66.