It’s winter in the early 1980’s and my father is cooking breakfast for the family (a regular family affair). He’s making pancakes on a cast iron skillet and there is snow outside on the ground. In one swift motion my father picks up the skillet, walks to the back door, opens the door and flings the skillet out into the yard. He quietly walks back into the kitchen and removes another pan from under the counter, and starts all over. He never says a word.
I only know this story because in the flinging of the skillet my father broke a wind chime that had 16 white porcelain doves on it, a wind chime that my mother adored. I actually only know this story through the retelling of it but I like it nonetheless. My dad doesn’t have a terrible temper, but it simmers and explodes and then sputters out. I laugh and remember this story because I am EXACTLY the same way.
Last year I am emptying things out of my car in the driveway. I have a purse, a messenger bag, and a camera around my arm and am still reaching for things in the backseat (ugh, the story of my life—really, if you were to watch me walk into the house you would be amazed at what I am carrying, constantly). Well, my bag tips over and things and papers fall out onto the floor of my backseat and I get instantly annoyed. I pick up the messenger bag and fling it far behind me on the driveway, I close the car door and silently walk into the house. I’m sure if you were there to see this incident it would have been equivalent to a child stomping their feet…but it was my reaction…the reaction and temper that I inherited from my father. You wouldn’t know I have a temper because I generally am not mad at people but rather at things. My temper simmers and explodes and then it sputters out. Just like my dad.
In all seriousness though pop, I love you and happy father’s day! You have stood by my side no matter what the cost, supported me and cheered for me in everything I have done, you have a special way of putting things into perspective, you always give sensible advice (even when I don’t ask for it), and you have shown me what it means to love one’s family beyond all reason. I hope you have the happiest of Father’s Days. I love you:)
Here’s a shot of my father from my senior thesis. I love this shot of him!
And here’s another one. This is my father with my sister and her first son, and she’s pregnant with her second. I love the representation of three generations here! Oh, and I obviously love the snowmobile helmets:)
This is great–you guys really are two peas in a pod. Happy fathers day, Wally!