My Daughter, Christi

I was talking to Rodney a high school classmate of mine the other day and he mentioned that his brother-in-law owned a wrecking yard south of town. Growing up in the automotive business, I knew most of those wrecking yard guys. He told me that Jim was his brother-in-law. I said that I have known Jim for 35 years or so. He’s a really good guy. I said his oldest son was the mascot at Bowie, my daughter’s senior year when she was the Head Cheerleader. Well, we talked about Jim for a while when Rodney said, he’s not actually my brother-in-law. My sister is married to Jim’s wife’s brother. But we have been so close over the years that we just call each other brother-in-law.

That’s the way it is with my Christi. I am not her biological father, but I have been in her life since she was 6 months old. Just days after Christi was born, I called Carla’s dad to ask about Carla and the baby. That’s when he told me that both were doing fine and the baby girl’s name was Christi. Cliff (Carla’s dad) was so proud. My wife separated from Christi’s biological father just months after Christi was born.

I still remember the first time that I saw Christi. Carla bowled at Austin Bowl-O-Rama on Monday nights with her mom and dad. I used to bowl with them before Carla married Larry. I was out with my college roommates (Chris and Phil) one Monday night and we drove by the bowling alley. I decided to stop by and see Carla and the baby. There Christi was in her little baby seat, she was beautiful. I think that was the day that my life changed and I decided to try and get Carla to marry me and that's another story in itself. I knew that Christi came along with Carla, but I thought that was the best thing that could ever happen to me.

Carla and I married when Christi was 2 ½ years old. At that point, she started calling me daddy. Prior to that she called me, “My Mike”.

Growing up, she called me daddy and never told her friends that I was her stepfather. Well, her last name was Cox, so her friends began to call me, Mr. Cox. I actually went by the name for years with her friends because it didn’t matter. I was Christi’s dad.

After Christi graduated from high school, I decided to become Mr. Carlson again. I remember talking to one of her best friends, Crissy and she kept calling me Mr. Cox. I finally told Crissy that I was taking my maiden name back and my name was Carlson. She said I know that, but being Christi’s dad, I just think of you as Mr. Cox. Thank goodness, she’s old enough now to just call me, Mike

I kept my Carlson name until Christi started teaching and coaching at Covington Middle School. Christi was a student there in the 8th grade when it first opened and was one of the first Covington Cheerleaders. I have other stories about Christi and Covington Middle School

Christi is a great volleyball coach and she coached basketball because they made her do it. Although, Christi had married by this time, she went by Coach Cox at Covington, because her biological uncle and my next-door neighbor was the Head Football Coach at Bowie High School.

Christi needed time keepers and score keepers at home games and she generally volunteered me (made me do it). Well you can see it coming. She told the girls that her dad was keeping score. She was Coach Cox, so I became Mr. Cox again. Not only did her players call me Mr. Cox, but so did her player’s parents. It was too hard to explain, because she had a new group of players for each sport and a new group every year that she coached there. I just became Mr. Cox. Even her co-workers called me, Mr. Cox.

That kept on until, Christi’s husband got a job in Houston and took Christi and my grandkids to Houston. I haven’t got to tell you about being Pop yet. I love my grandkids; Tucker, Willie and Emma Ray.

The moral of this story is that you don’t have to be blood related to be a dad. I have so many memories to tell about raising Christi. From the time we got carbon monoxide poisoning in a motor home to catching Christi busting curfew when she was in high school. From coaching her playing T-ball at five years old to seeing her participate in the Miss Texas pageant. We’ve had some good times, great memories and I love her. I don’t care what name you call me by, as long as you call me, Christi’s dad.