It's a Crabtree Family Tradition: Move the Daughters

You may have noticed I wasn't on the air Thursday night (7/31).

I wasn't sick, and I wasn't on vacation.

I was participating in what's been a ritual for my family almost every year (sometimes twice a year) since 2000: move a college daughter into her apartment.

You can call me "One Man and a Truck."

This time, wife Gayle and I moved Kayla from one apartment to another.

To her credit, Kayla had stayed in the "move from" apartment for two years, my only break in close to a decade.

This time, Gayle went down the night before to start moving boxes, lay shelf paper, and of course, spend a ton o'cash at Wal-Mart.

We gave Kayla our old couch. I loaded it into my pick-up by myself with ease (fortunately the couch was thin and light). But I was worried about how I'd get it off the truck and into the new apartment. I had flashbacks of the year we got a new sofa for daughter Lauren's apartment, and the blessed thing just didn't want to go through the door (after a huff and a puff and a great BIG push, it finally went).

But this time, God smiled on me.

When I arrived with the couch, two painters saw me and offered to help.

Actually, they did more than help. They took over. The two of them picked up the couch, discussed (in Spanish) how to get it through the door, and in it went, easy as pie. They were smiling the entire time. I shook their hands with great appreciation.

Though there was a language barrier, I believe my look of appreciation and relief must've been international.

My part of moving day covered about 12 hours, counting drive time and a lunch break. The day was spent going up the stairs of the old place, grabbing stuff, going down the stairs to my truck, loading it, then driving to the new place (about 5 minutes away), unloading the stuff, setting it up, then back into the truck to return to the old place and get another load.

And remember folks, Thursday was a sweltering day. There were late-afternoon thunderstorms and lightning all around us, but I didn't see one drop of rain until Gayle and I got into our respective vehicles to drive home.

On the trip home, Gayle (who was a few miles ahead of me) called to let me know the traffic lights were out at one intersection of a city we had to drive through, and to be careful.

God smiled upon me again.

When I reach that intersection, I drove right through it before realizing it was the one where the lights were out. Fortunately the traffic on the side streets watched for me better than I watched for them.

Even with all the work the many "daughter moves" have involved, those of you who are parents know what I mean by this: there is an indescribable feeling of love that motivates you to do all you can to make your children safe and comfortable. I want my kids to devote their time to making good grades and good friends, not whether the bed will collapse or whether there's food in the refrigerator.

That's Mom and Dad's department.