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My dad worked outside. He owned his own business but still it was backbreaking physical work, in rain, sleet sun, and snow. 6 days a week, sometimes 7. When he came home, he would smell of chemicals, dirt and the outdoors. I came to love that smell. That smell to me meant love.
My dad used to bring me little trinkets from the five and dime when I was home sick from school. He would tell me stories and scratch my back. I would wait in my room for six oclock when he would come home, anticipating the surprise.
Often we would go to the amusement park and go on the rides. I can remember the big smile on his face when we would go on the carousel together. I can remember some of the things he said to me on those rides too.
When I got a little older he would take me to Sam Goody on Sundays (after the blue laws were changed) to get a 45. I still have the carry case with all the 45s in it in my closet. We used to sing I got you babe by Sonny and Cher together.
My dad taught me how to really look at things and draw. Before he ran his business he was a draftsman. He told me to take my time and look.
When my brother died, it was my dad I saw cry.
My dad is a tall, gentle man. He barely finished high school and does not write well. He has always felt ashamed of this. But writing isnt everything.
My dad treasured the little free time he had. He chose to give so much of that time to me when I was growing up. I am forever grateful.
To link to this blog from blog posts/comments, use [blog violet915], from anywhere else use http://personals.techtv.com/blog/violet915,
and to read it remotely use the feed.
