For this Father’s Day, I wanted to just share a bit about my Dad. It’s taken a bit longer than I planned, but it will now be in time for what would have been his birthday, July 4th. This is just one memory of him that makes me happy.
When we had been married just a few months, we had my Dad over for breakfast, I think for Father’s Day. We lived in a converted stand-alone garage of the grandpa of one of Monica’s friends. It was in a place that was rather rural, with horse corrals with horses, donkeys, peacocks and chickens on either side of our house, until the city grew in around it. The carpet was thin and old, the kitchen very old, and the bathroom a disaster. When we moved in, Monica’s Dad helped paint the whole place, and we re-tiled the bathroom and made the place look a bit more inhabitable. This Google Streetview photo gives a feel for what the place looked like (it has not changed).
We didn’t have much. The place had a couch and one old cushioned metal chair that was missing a coaster on one of its legs. We didn’t buy furniture. We had been given a small round table, and somehow had another chair, enough for the two of us. But we didn’t anything for a third person. We decided to use a 5-gallon bucket that we had for food storage. With that, we had enough for Dad to visit. He came over and it was rather hot, and I remember it was quite sunny. We didn’t have air conditioning, but we had a swamp cooler.
Dad often wore suits, and always wore dress clothes. I don’t ever remember him wearing a t-shirt, jeans, athletic shoes, or shorts. And this day was no different. It was a Sunday, so he came over in a black suit, with a tie. He had been down for quite some time. He had been divorced for a few years now. I had lived with him until I got married, and with the business of life, I had not been around much for him. He had few friends. He had been struggling to get by as a substitute teacher, and this had always been stressful for him. Suffice it to say that he was carrying some heavy burdens. Some of these burdens I have only come to appreciate through my own experience as a father and husband, when things have not turned out as planned.
But that day was a good day, and I think he was genuinely happy. Monica had made kind of a brunch. She made a big pan full of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, and chunks of cream cheese melted in the eggs. She even made some bacon. Dad loved to eat, and this was a delicious, simple meal. My Dad believed in the Atkin’s diet, so this fit particularly well with his “diet”.
The sun was shining, the swamp cooler was blowing cool air on us, and we sat around our little table talking. I think that at this point, we knew that Monica was pregnant with Conrad, so that was another happy topic. I don’t remember what we said. Nothing big happened, but I felt like at that point, Monica and I helped Dad feel that things were okay. I like to think that he saw me, young and married to a beautiful wife, but with a broken-down apartment without air conditioning( in Las Vegas), two mismatched chairs and a 5-gallon bucket, and he had a good chuckle. I also like to think that he saw that I had been prepared, that lack of “things” didn’t bother me, and that I had the skills, strength, humility, hope and courage to face the future. I’d like to think that as he drove away, he realized that he did a good job as a Dad, and that because of that, I (and those that needed me) would be okay.
Thanks Dad.
Tags: family