Alfred Westenskow Born March 22, 1910

Al Westenskow 1931, age 21

Today would be my father's 105th birthday.  He was born March 22, 1910 in Imbler, Oregon to Hans Westenskow, Jr. and Ane Christina Andersen.  (Very Danish names indeed!)  I want to post a few pictures of my Dad, as he is absolutely one of the greatest Dads who ever lived.  I say, "is" because he still lives, just not here right now, and he will always be my Dad.

1934, age 24

Verda and Al 1934 Dating Time

1934, age 24

1935

Al and Bev 1970

Al, Verda, Bev, Robyn, Tonna, Amber, Holly Parker 1981

Harmonica!  Who inherited this one?

Piano!  Dad played "by ear."

Al and Holly Parker 1980 in Grandpa's chair.
 

Daren and Camie -.  Notice Grandpa's cane and hat on Camie.

My Dad loved my Mom and all of us kids more than he loved anything else on this earth.  When he died January 26, 1999, we all knew we would miss him terribly, but we also knew we would see him again because of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the saving ordinances of the temple that would allow us to be together as a family forever.  One of Dad's favorite hymns was, 'I Know That My Redeemer Lives," and the children and grandchildren sang it at his funeral in La Grande, Oregon.  It has always been one of my favorites also, probably partly because I knew my Dad loved it so much.

I could talk a lot about my Dad and the memories of vanilla ice cream with Hershey's Chocolate Syrup, cake in milk (which I now know was a Danish way of eating kage!), family musical programs, his playing the harmonica at family gatherings, car rides around the Grande Ronde Valley, eating skinless wieners, potato chips and cookies in the car, See's Chocolates, buying horses when I became a teenager, camping trips to the High Lakes, him teaching me to paint the outside of one of the houses he was selling, his kicking me in the rear with his "good leg" when I mouthed-off to Mom, his tears when he left me at BYU to start college, his stories of when he was a kid on the ranch below Mt. Harris, his swinging his cane at my children as they played around his chair as he grew older, letting my children play with his adding machine in his office after he retired, and I could go on and on...

My Dad taught me a lot and I will be forever grateful for a father who took time to do so much for our family.  He put us first in his life, but coupled us with his testimony of the Gospel.  We learned what was important to him, and why it should be important to us.  Of course, I was always his "favorite," but I suspect that the other children thought they were the favorite, too.  To be totally honest, we all know that Mother was his favorite!

Happy Birthday Daddy!  I love you.