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  • Papa Ed

    June 17, 2006

    I like my dad. Oh sure, I love him too. That’s a given. But I really like him. I always have.

    My dad and I like to hang out together. My parents have a gazebo in their back yard that is enrobed in purple clematis and hanging baskets of pink petunias in the summer. The gazebo rests in the shade of towering trees that were not much more than seedlings when I lived there. Dad and I like to sit out there in the breeze that swirls through and drink iced tea and talk. Or not. Sometimes we just sit.

    Sometimes we venture into the garage and make something. That’s how we got the gazebo. One time we ended up with a grape arbor. And then grapes. Another time we painted a mural of a seascape on the side of the garage. I tell him I want to make something. He tells me why it can’t be done. We go back and forth until he is convinced it is his idea. And then we set to work, the two of us, a team. The only team I’ve ever been on that never kicked me off.

    My dad has a lot of qualities I admire, but the one I’d like to have that I didn’t get (especially now that I’m a parent) is patience. The man is unflappable. I remember one time when I was about nine, my brothers and I were in the living room throwing pillows and agitating one another and just generally being the rowdy obnoxious kids that we were.

    Dad was in the kitchen quietly working on an oil painting. Somehow, one of the sofa pillows went sailing into the kitchen and landed squarely on dad’s painting. He just stopped what he was doing and took the pillow and the painting and deposited them both into the trash. He didn’t even grimace or make a face or even heave a sigh. There was no yelling or well-deserved discipline or even a lecture. If he had only beaten the pudding out of us, it would have been less painful than the silent expression of disappointment. There are many other times when I deserved a measure of his wrath, but it was never forthcoming.

    When my dad comes to my house to visit, we get up early and meet in the kitchen for a cup of coffee and the New York Times crossword puzzle. After I fix him two eggs over easy, two pieces of bacon and a piece of toast, we sit down and work the puzzle together. He doesn’t know who Bon Jovi is. I don’t know what an ogee is. We make a good team, each one making up for the deficiencies of the other.

    I’m a lucky girl. I have a daddy that I love. But I really like him too.

    Happy Father’s Day Papa Ed.


    1. roxanne says:

      What a lovely friend to have.

      June 17th, 2006 at 5:25 pm

    2. Code Yellow Mom says:

      The pillow-painting story is going down in my “best fathers stories” ever.

      You are a lucky girl. And he’s a lucky dad.

      June 17th, 2006 at 7:33 pm

    3. veronica says:

      What a lovely memory of your father. And what a blessing that you can enjoy each other so much now.

      June 17th, 2006 at 10:49 pm

    4. Shannon @ Rocks in my Dryer says:

      That is a beautiful tribute–thanks for sharing that.

      June 18th, 2006 at 8:14 am

    5. Teacher Lady says:

      I’m not feeling very witty this morning, so I will just say, “Wow.”

      June 18th, 2006 at 8:56 am

    6. Carla says:

      This is so sweet…it makes me miss my dad who passed away in 1995. thank you for this story.

      June 18th, 2006 at 10:32 am

    7. Darlene says:

      I like your writing. No matter how short a blog is, its interesting. I especially like the line “The only team I’ve ever been on that never kicked me off.” That was great.

      June 18th, 2006 at 7:36 pm

    8. Naeva says:

      Well, you’re right…you’re one of the luckiest girl among those who have a daddy to love.

      Daddy’s always wonderful, with his own amazing ways.

      Happy Father’s Day!

      I believe others would love to read this lovely posting…I linked it up in my blog, 🙂

      June 18th, 2006 at 11:03 pm

    9. Janice says:

      You are so blessed to have such a great dad. I wish I was better in the patience dept!!!

      June 19th, 2006 at 2:29 am

    10. H.A. Page says:

      I had fun, too, writing a tribute to my Dad. I don’t know if he reads blogs – or even my blog – enough to pick up on it. But half the fun was writing it, whether he reads it or not.

      A wonderful father is one of the greatest blessings there could ever be. To have a wonderful father and then to marry one (which you don’t really know until they grow into their role) is just doubly, triply, infinity wonderful.


      June 19th, 2006 at 2:30 pm

    11. Pieces says:

      What a beautiful thing to write about your dad! Any parent would be proud to have such lovely things said about them.

      June 19th, 2006 at 9:43 pm

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