My Dad turns 96 today.
I look at him and he just doesn't seem to get any older, despite the turning of the years.
He still walks with a lofty stride. He still eats with a slow and steady appreciation for his food.
He wears a pacemaker, an irony not lost on this former electrician.
At 96, Dad's retirement years equal his working years, and during those years however, he managed to amass sufficient funds to sustain him and Mum without receiving a pension.
Last July, Dad surrendered his license. He had been playing tennis (told you he was agile) and fell and broke his pelvis.
During the rehabilitation that followed, Dad became a bit of a favourite in hospital, singing his Gilbert and Sullivan ditties and cracking jokes about the hospital needing to install a pool to make it more like a resort.
Dad's a do-er. I grew up thinking it was normal for Dads to be out every night. He built local playgrounds, ran local events, organised the gifts for Santa to distribute at his work picnic. He sang in a men's choir, attended Lodge meetings. He sold Lions Christmas cakes and ran the Youth of the Year for the Lions club he adored. He made the world a better place.
My Dad is a quiet man. But don't under estimate the quiet ones, especially those quiet achievers. Happy birthday.
- Linda Muller
