If you like stitching try this - on this layout I couldn't decide what color to stitch the flames so I took several different colors and took one strand from each. I really liked the way it turned out.
The journaling on this page was actually written before my dad died. He had retired from racing the summer before and I had decided for Christmas (or it might have been something I wanted to make him when he was in the hospital. I can't really remember.) that I wanted to make him a page about his racing. I started with the journaling first and finished it about three days before he died. I even remember thinking that when Dad reads it he's going to say, "what, do you think I'm dying?" It ended up being on the back of his funeral program.
On July 16, 2005 I took my son to his first race. Little did I know it would be my dad's last. He always talked about retiring, but I just couldn't let myself believe it. I couldn't imagine my dad not racing. I have enough memories or him racing to fill a book. From being 3-years-old and mistakenly cheering for him even though he was sitting behind me to almost jumping the fence when his car was engulfed in flames.
I was always on edge when he was on the track and he always seemed as calm as could be - never getting frustrated or at least never showing that he was. My favorite thing came from a night when he was having trouble with his car. Seeing the disappointment on my face, he simply said, "If you're going to watch a race, out on the track is the best seat in the house!" It was his constant upbeat outlook, goofy personality and kind heart that made you an instant fan. It was his quick leap to offer assistance to a driver with a broken car that made him a pit favorite.
After weekends filled with racing, Sunday's were spent with recaps of the nights before. I loved how he would talk as if none of us were there to see it. You could see by the sparkle in his eyes that re-telling the stories was almost as exciting as the race itself.
Now that he will no longer be racing, the smell of rubber and fuel won't be as sweet, the taste of stale chips and nacho cheese won't be as good, and the sound of revving motors won't be the same without hearing that little Ford Mustang I know by heart.
Dad, you are forever in my racing Hall of Fame and a legend in my eyes.
I can't ever write my journaling by speaking to the reader. I like so much more to just tell the story. With this page doing that almost makes it sound like I wrote it after he died.
Sorry about all the dad posts...it's getting close to that time of year.