September 29^th marks the day that my father entered into this world back in 1937.

If he were here, today would mark his 80^th birthday.

 

My Dad was absolutely the smartest man I have ever known.

In his almost seventy-three years here on earth, he held many different jobs and traveled all around the world. He was indeed my “Superman.”

He was a military man and served as an Air Controller, Cryptologist as well as a Russian Linguist. He held a government position in Washington. He was a salesman and a business owner. The most important position to me, of course, was the title of being my Dad.

My Dad was always an athlete.

From the time he was young, he played basketball and ran track, continuing both for as long as I can remember. Every amusement park and carnival we ever attended, my Dad could be found at the basketball hoops where he would continuously play until he won the “top prize,” which was usually one of those ridiculously huge stuffed animals. I remember on several occasions, him having to tie his “winnings” to the top of our car to even get them home.

During his Naval years, he also took up handball, winning many championships.

He was always a runner.

When I was little, I can remember the highlight of my weekend was to wake up early to go with him on his Saturday morning runs, usually to one of the area high school tracks.

I would pack a bag full of Barbies and play in the middle of the football fields as he would run lap after lap. As I got older, I ended up running some with him. That was until I discovered boys, got my license and preferred to sleep until noon.

Even though a majority of his civilian work, at least in the beginning anyway, would require him to be out-of-town a lot, he still managed to make special time for me.

I remember during my early elementary school years, my first-grade year maybe, he had attended a school function and got to talking to the fifth-grade teacher of the school, Ms. McGee.

Somehow the topic of her students studying Russia came up in conversation, and when she learned of my Dad traveling there and being a Russian Linguist she asked if he would be willing to come and talk to her students.

He agreed to do this on one condition: that a certain “assistant” would be allowed to come and give him a hand during his speeches.

She agreed.

He became a regular in Ms. McGee’s fifth grade curriculum.

I was so proud of my Dad and this was absolutely THE coolest thing ever, for a first through fourth grader, that is!!! Being released from your class to help your Dad teach the “big kids” was pretty awesome!

That was, until I actually became one of those fifth graders…

I’m not sure why it wasn’t so cool then, but it wasn’t.

I can still remember my Dad trying to coax me out of my seat to come up in front of MY class and help him.  When I hesitated, he jokingly started to point at me and in a deep and firm “Russian accent voice” began comically scolding me in Russian, which of course made the entire class laugh. I eventually went up as I had the years before. Deep down, I was as proud of him as I was when I was a first grader, even though I dared to admit it.

Serving in the US Navy was something my Dad held a lot of pride in and would probably consider one of his greatest accomplishments.

He enlisted at the young age of seventeen, or somewhere around there anyway. There was evidently a bit of controversy over that as I remember my Grandmother talking about it often. Something to the effect of him not asking her permission before doing so, and possibly stretching the truth about his exact age. Don’t hold me to that, as I never got the full story as it was always a heated debate when that subject arose.

Either way, he proudly served as a sailor for twenty-two years before retiring as a CTIC, Cryptologic-Interpretive-Chief Petty Officer.

 

After retiring from the Navy, my Dad held a government job for a while. He and my mom had traveled all over the world during his military years, but once seeing Virginia, they both agreed there was no place more beautiful. It was there they decided to stay and retire.

My Dad worked for a while as a salesman in the water well industry. After several years of learning the trade, he eventually opened his own company, Don Griffin Well Drilling Co., Inc., which he successfully ran for over twenty-eight years.

Of those twenty-eight years, I had the pleasure of working with him for seventeen of them.

 

September 29^th was always “no big deal” to him. He didn’t like the fuss and would often grumble when my mother would inform him of the plans for his birthday…

“If nothing else act happy and participate for your grandkids!” She would tell him on a yearly basis.

I remember one year, early on when I had started working with him, I decided to sneak into work late the night before his birthday to decorate his office.

When he arrived the next morning, all I heard out of the other room was,

“Val! What is all this crap?! Come clean it up before anyone sees it!!”

It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, he just never liked attention drawn to himself. Not for birthdays or anything else.

My Dad often did generous acts of kindness, never ever wanting to be recognized for it.

During his twenty-eight years of running his well drilling company, my Dad was known to often “work with the customers” if he felt they had fallen on hard times.

If a customer came up short to pay for their obviously much needed water, he would often compromise.

Instead of them paying the bill, Dad would often accept whatever they would offer.

My favorite of his compromises, was the time he came home with a pinball machine!

Another time it was a timeshare, which we still make use of today.

Then, there was the Amish covered wagon.

I can remember my mom saying, “Donald! We don’t even have a horse!?”

Dad’s response, “Not yet we don’t…”

Over the years there was an elderly lady that would bake for him on a regular basis. She continued this up until the day he passed away. She would often tell me over and over again that, she could never repay “Mr. Griffin” for all the kindness he had shown her.

Although my Dad was one-of-a-kind, I am blessed to see a lot of him in my son. Thank you Lord for that.

“So, while yes Dad, you never liked a lot of attention drawn to yourself, and you would probably be giving me a “genuine” Russian lashing for doing this, but today, September 29^th, I will always remember as your day!

And you can bet your sweet bippy that if you were here, it would be a lot “worse” than a blog post, it would be more along the lines of a surprise party! (which I’m sure Mom’s already taken care of!)

Thank you for having that humble, kind and generous heart.

Thank you for serving our wonderful country and taking pride in all it stands for.

Thank you for being an adventurer and showing me that if you never try, it’s impossible to succeed.

Thank you, mostly for just being my Dad!

God certainly blessed me with the best one!

I love you and,

Happy 80th!!!