D is for Dreams of my Dad.

Sleep doesn't always come easily...

My Pop (82 years young) broke his leg (femur) while trotting about Zermatt. Everyone is glad that he is getting the care he needs -- no cast! Lots of metal and tape however. Wonderful modern care in Visp, if you should ever need it. Also wonderful that he wasn't more seriously hurt, nevertheless, I'll keep my fingers crossed, knock on wood and say more than a few prayers, to the God that my father doesn't believe in.

Several people have called him, which has made him happy. My beautiful mother is with him and my brother is heading over there to act as return tour director/escort for the return flight. For a bad situation, it is good situation. My dad is about one of the greatest dads ever, smart, funny, thoughtful, committed. Definitely my greatest, favorite Dad. Eternally youthful, fatherhood still seems to surprise him; grandfatherhood is a treat he didn't anticipate and yet enjoys, with some distance. Did I mention he is funny? Very funny.

A short while ago I was on the phone with him. He doesn't call very often so when he does I answer. He asked me something, I responded and a lady next to me, not on the phone, who knew I was talking to my Dad, but doesn't know him, laughed! He makes everyone smile. It went something like this: Ring Ring. Hi Sweetie Pie. It's your dad. Oh Hi Dad! How's it going? Good. Did you hear the 49ers are playing the first game of the season Monday? No! I didn't realize. [A minute more chit-chat.] Hey, I gotta go. OK. I'll call you later. Do you know the number? :) Yes, I know the number! :) Big Kisses. Big Kisses Dad!

He said he has a view of the Swiss Alps that reminds him of our backyard view of Timpanogos.

I'll be riding my bike in a few minutes in the shadow of Timp.