When I was small I felt that my Dad was the tallest man around. I feel that we all feel like that when we are little kids. However, my Dad was at least six foot in his stocking feet.
My Dad liked to hunt, fish, ice fish, go camping, walk in the woods, work in the garden and visit with friends. I bet you can’t believe that I liked all those things as well. My Dad included me in most of his activities and I enjoyed myself and I adored my Dad.
One of Dad’s likable traits was his storytelling. He had all of us in stitches and he knew lots of stories and jokes. I would love to sit under the table when he was sitting there with his guy friends and they were all sharing their adventures.
One of the treats for me was my Dad taking me hiking for my birthday on the Appalachian Mountain trails there in Maine. Our relatives would drop us off at the trail head and meet us on the other end. My Dad and I would have a water bottle and lunch to be eaten later on the trail. It was joyous to be in nature, hiking with Dad and seeing new territory. These were the things that memories are made of. Later on when my younger sister was older, she was invited to go with us. Mind you, I didn’t do the inviting and I was horrified with her whining of “wait for me” or “slow down I can’t keep us.” I would just hiss at her to straighten up and to keep up.
Other fun times were fishing with Dad, Uncle Bo and Uncle Scribby. There was lots of storytelling with the fishing and I loved fishing. With these three guys I also went hunting for deer and pheasants. I never hit anything but it was fun shooting my gun and just being with the guys.
Another time that especially stands out in my mind was when I was having trouble in learning how to ride my motorcycle. One early Sunday morning, California time, I called my Dad. He was up since Maine time was three hours ahead of California time. Sobbing into the phone I told him how I was having trouble riding and that my friends were giving me a hard time. I told him how I wanted to get in touch with the instructor of the motorcycle safety course and have him work with me and my motorcycle. My Dad told me that if I wanted to learn how to ride my bike then that is what I needed to do and I should do it regardless of what my friends thought. Just listening to his quiet voice telling me everything would be okay and to go for what I want and not let anyone stop me. I felt so much better and a big weight had lifted off my shoulders. Now mind you, my Dad wasn’t that excited about me riding a motorcycle but he knew how much I wanted this.
My Dad was a recovering alcoholic and had bi-polar disorder. He wasn’t always the easiest man to live with, hence my parents got a divorce nor was he always likeable. But, he with his AA program and me with my Al-Anon program we were able to find our way to live with each other and when he died I was able to let him go and not have any unfinished business.
So, that’s my Dad in a very small nutshell. To me, he was my knight in tarnished armor and I loved him.
mz. em
Quote of the Day
Words are the voice of the heart.
– Confucius
Currently Reading: “A Ghost in the Closet is There an Alcoholic Hiding?” by Michele Dale Mitchel
“Lasher” by Anne Rice
“A Woman’s Spirit” by Karen Casey
Currently Watching: Hope Floats
Listening to: Armageddon The Album
Yes, you and I have a lot in common. Dad and I worked thru lots of stuff and had a really warm relationship in the last few years of his life.
I remember going down to Kennebunkport with Dad and my little brothers, and catching mackerel. We ate all we could hold and Mom canned the rest for winter.