Today is Father's Day | Lisa says | DONNE TEMPO
Today is Father's Day
June/21/09 11:13 AM Filed in: Lisa says
Today is Father’s Day.
I’ve been thinking a lot about parents lately – specifically about the relationship between parents and adult children. At the age of 44, I have come to the belated realization that we are always our parent’s children. That is from both sides.
While we strive for equality and “to be treated like an adult,” we also crave that same cocoon of unconditional love from them that we sought as children. True, it’s tempered by a mutual respect, a desire for a recognition that we are adults – many of us our parents ourselves – but we can never completely disentangle from that parent-child relationship.
Since its Fathers Day, I was thinking about my dad. I was walking the dogs this morning and thinking about the gifts he gave me. True, some of them have been tangible, like the money he has given me to get me through rough spots, but most of them are intangible moments that are the true stuff life is made of.
My dad is one of the kindest, gentlest people I know. Last year (or maybe it was the year before…as we age, time becomes a little more elastic), Dad was driving home and saw a dead opossum in the middle of the road.
Ewwwww, right?
Not for my dad. He stopped because he realized there was a possibility it was a pregnant female. Sure enough, it was. He removed the pups from the pouch and took them to Busch Wildlife Sanctuary so they would be safe.
Who does that? For an opossum? My father.
He’s also keenly observant, and quietly takes it all in. He sees hummingbirds and butterflies and new buds on flowers while the rest of us stream past on our hurried way to work or school or the mall. He appreciates natural beauty – everything from bee’s nests to fantastic orchids to intricate spider webs – and takes the time to see them.
When I was a child, he would carefully remove spiders or beetles or any other kind of bug from the house by trapping it in a Tupperware container and putting it outside. No squishing of insects in our house (at least when he was around).
I sometimes forget how patient my father can be. While I often hurry through a problem, wanting to be done with it, he carefully reviews each possibility and tests each theory. He is a student of the issue, taking time to understand each step before moving on.
This translates into an uncanny ability to show things to children. He lets them explore whatever it is he is showing them, never pushing them to the conclusion or trying to get them to find the same answer or path he discovered.
He allows them – he allows all of us – to choose our own path.
My father (parents, actually) came to every soccer game I ever played. Even as an adult, I’d look at the sidelines and there my parents would sit, lawn chairs in tow, quietly supporting my interests.
Unlike many people I know, I had a tremendous, magical childhood, filled with streams and flowers and fields and freedom.
Some of my most amazing memories are nature walks through Bull Run Park in the spring and fall, examining colorful leaves and empty chrysalis, smelling the air before a storm, climbing trees and tasting wild blackberries. That is because of my father.
It is because of my father that I stop to watch butterflies in the garden and appreciate their flight. It is because of my father that I happily pick up snakeskins and examine the pattern. It is because of my father that I love the quiet mornings when the only sound is the songbirds and the breeze.
It is because of my father that I take the time to get outside every day and wonder at the miracle of nature.
Oh, sure, there are other things. It’s probably because of my father that I’m a little quirky. But it’s in a good way. It’s also true he’s a pot stirrer. We (half) joke that he revels in impending doom – nothing makes him happier than those hours before a hurricane.
And there is no question that he is maniacally driven and is the most disciplined person – to the point of aestheticism when it’s not about computers – I have ever met in my life. That’s all part of who he is.
In the end, I wouldn’t trade my father for any other. He gave me walks in the woods and a love of exploration, a desire to figure things out and to accept. He has given me the gift of finding my own path.
I am truly blessed.
I’ve been thinking a lot about parents lately – specifically about the relationship between parents and adult children. At the age of 44, I have come to the belated realization that we are always our parent’s children. That is from both sides.
While we strive for equality and “to be treated like an adult,” we also crave that same cocoon of unconditional love from them that we sought as children. True, it’s tempered by a mutual respect, a desire for a recognition that we are adults – many of us our parents ourselves – but we can never completely disentangle from that parent-child relationship.
Since its Fathers Day, I was thinking about my dad. I was walking the dogs this morning and thinking about the gifts he gave me. True, some of them have been tangible, like the money he has given me to get me through rough spots, but most of them are intangible moments that are the true stuff life is made of.
My dad is one of the kindest, gentlest people I know. Last year (or maybe it was the year before…as we age, time becomes a little more elastic), Dad was driving home and saw a dead opossum in the middle of the road.
Ewwwww, right?
Not for my dad. He stopped because he realized there was a possibility it was a pregnant female. Sure enough, it was. He removed the pups from the pouch and took them to Busch Wildlife Sanctuary so they would be safe.
Who does that? For an opossum? My father.
He’s also keenly observant, and quietly takes it all in. He sees hummingbirds and butterflies and new buds on flowers while the rest of us stream past on our hurried way to work or school or the mall. He appreciates natural beauty – everything from bee’s nests to fantastic orchids to intricate spider webs – and takes the time to see them.
When I was a child, he would carefully remove spiders or beetles or any other kind of bug from the house by trapping it in a Tupperware container and putting it outside. No squishing of insects in our house (at least when he was around).
I sometimes forget how patient my father can be. While I often hurry through a problem, wanting to be done with it, he carefully reviews each possibility and tests each theory. He is a student of the issue, taking time to understand each step before moving on.
This translates into an uncanny ability to show things to children. He lets them explore whatever it is he is showing them, never pushing them to the conclusion or trying to get them to find the same answer or path he discovered.
He allows them – he allows all of us – to choose our own path.
My father (parents, actually) came to every soccer game I ever played. Even as an adult, I’d look at the sidelines and there my parents would sit, lawn chairs in tow, quietly supporting my interests.
Unlike many people I know, I had a tremendous, magical childhood, filled with streams and flowers and fields and freedom.
Some of my most amazing memories are nature walks through Bull Run Park in the spring and fall, examining colorful leaves and empty chrysalis, smelling the air before a storm, climbing trees and tasting wild blackberries. That is because of my father.
It is because of my father that I stop to watch butterflies in the garden and appreciate their flight. It is because of my father that I happily pick up snakeskins and examine the pattern. It is because of my father that I love the quiet mornings when the only sound is the songbirds and the breeze.
It is because of my father that I take the time to get outside every day and wonder at the miracle of nature.
Oh, sure, there are other things. It’s probably because of my father that I’m a little quirky. But it’s in a good way. It’s also true he’s a pot stirrer. We (half) joke that he revels in impending doom – nothing makes him happier than those hours before a hurricane.
And there is no question that he is maniacally driven and is the most disciplined person – to the point of aestheticism when it’s not about computers – I have ever met in my life. That’s all part of who he is.
In the end, I wouldn’t trade my father for any other. He gave me walks in the woods and a love of exploration, a desire to figure things out and to accept. He has given me the gift of finding my own path.
I am truly blessed.
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