FATHER’S DAY
The Isolation Blues;
reflections during covid-19
This is a Father’s Day installment of Backwoods Blog and you’ll have to excuse me as I reminisce about years gone past. I think it’s always a difficult (if impossible) task to reconstruct what our childhood lives were like when, of course, we were only children at the time. I always find it interesting when I ask my twin sister what she remembers about something that I remember, she doesn’t know what I’m talking about and vice versa. Here is a family photo I came across from around 1969. It looks like we had just been to church and posed for a picture at my grandparent’s house (Ralph & Laura Stitham) after lunch. My mother had recently purchased a brand new 1968 Pontiac Grand-Prix hardtop with retractable lights and you’ll notice the license plate is the old yellow before the state switched to white in the mid-seventies. The photo-op must have been a last second decision because my Dad already had the driver’s door open ready to go. If you look closely you’ll see a small plastic gun in my hand, which as I remember shot the coolest yellow whirly-gig wheels (harmless most of the time).
On one occasion I remember trying something that I think every son tries at some point with their father; I was probably 6 years old at the time and I was following my Dad across the drive way as we headed towards the machine shed and (as he wasn’t watching) I tried to step in my father’s footsteps matching him stride for stride. My father was so large compared to me and his stride so long that it took me two steps to make his one or I’d have to leap to make up the distance. I wondered to myself how long would it take for me to be big like my Dad? My Father never suspected what I was doing behind him and I never told him about my stride-test but I kind of wish I had. We are all trying to match up to our Dad.
Dad always took a nap on Sunday afternoon on the living room couch after our big family meal after church. It was the only time of the week I ever saw my Dad take a nap when I was growing up and it was a routine that was not to be disturbed by any loud playing or ruckus around the house. Every now and again I would crawl onto the couch with my Dad and lay next to him. Again, I was struck by how large he was compared to me. I never thought I would ever be that big. But over time it happens. Here I am today with my larger than life memories of my Dad, and writing a few of these comments down is something I’ve never done before. Our lives move all too quickly and are oftentimes unobserved even by ourselves. Our lives are intended to be lived and remembered.
Happy Father’s Day
In the woods,
Dave
June 17, 2021