Today would have been my Papa Oliver’s 90th birthday. He passed away not quite two years ago. If you don’t know me well, you can still probably guess that I was close to him and loved him dearly.
I told him, long before I had any real plans to have children, that I wanted to name my first son Oliver. His response was something like “Oh, why would you want to do that?” When we called to tell them our first baby was a boy and his name is Oliver, I am pretty sure my Papa got a little choked up and he said something like “that’s neat.” He didn’t give me a hard time at all. He always referred to my Oliver as Little Ollie. I liked that a lot.
Anyway, I could tell a hundred stories about my Papa, which is why I decided to celebrate his birthday every year with my kids. I want them to know about him, even if they can’t know him. Papa Oliver loved ice cream, so his birthday is now Ice Cream Day at our house.
My Papa was in the hospital when Benton was born and I heard he said something kind of funny about Benton’s name, but I think it was the morphine talking. He was a funny guy. He died about six weeks after Benton was born and I was not able to go to the funeral. Thankfully my brother read something for me. I wanted to share it, but maybe another time.
Anyway, we made a batch of vanilla ice cream and a batch of blueberry. We plan to share the vanilla at Papa Frank and my birthday celebration this Sunday.
So, Happy Ice Cream Day. We miss you Papa!
To the rest of you, go eat some ice cream today!