Earlier this week marked the eleventh anniversary of my dad’s passing. I don’t feel like I need to write about it every year. But, it’s certainly something I think about often, and one of my fears as we get further away from his death is that my memories of him may get fuzzier with time. So, these are just a couple of my favorites from the last few years he was with us.
The summer before I left town for graduate school I worked as a receptionist in his medical office. I had no interest or experience in the health sciences, but I bought a few pairs of scrubs and showed up every morning to man my station. Looking back on that summer, I’m not sure the job did much for my resume. But, I’m so grateful for the experience because it meant I had a short season of some quality time with Dad, in his element, that I would have otherwise missed out on. I saw firsthand how he interacted and joked with his staff, listened to his patients, and worked hard at what he felt called to do.
We had a routine of going to lunch at least once a week if he could get away between appointments. He didn’t make a big deal about lunch and it was never a formal plan, but he would stick his head in the reception area and say, “Hey, do you wanna grab something to eat today?” He drove a red Ford Ranger at the time. I would have never pegged him as a pick-up truck kind of guy, but he had a way of surprising us in areas like his choice of cars and music. He typically listened to NPR and talk radio, so I’ll never forget how shocked I was to see his radio dial tuned to the country music station and hear him say, “I like those Dixie Chicks.” And back in their heyday, he really did. So, he would drive his truck, with his country songs playing, and we would ride down the road to Schlotzsky’s Deli.
Dad was a man of few words, but he would talk over lunch. Perhaps more surprisingly, I would listen. Our conversations weren’t deep or long. Dad was never one to show a lot of emotion. But, I feel like he sincerely enjoyed having me there with him at lunch. And, those Schlotzsky dates are some of my favorite memories of him.
A few years later when I moved back to Knoxville from Birmingham, Dad asked in his own roundabout way if I would like to set up a small office for my design ventures in one of the empty rooms in the basement of his office. And, so I jumped at the opportunity to have a “real” office away from the house. I chose a ridiculously bright yellow color to paint the walls, and I remember him being amused if not a bit concerned about my choice of color. I had all kinds of ideas about what kind of design products and services I could offer and absolutely no real business plan. To this day, I regret the way I mishandled a couple of years in my twenties, bobbling around wasting precious time and energy on a few self-guided business endeavors. But, Dad was strangely quiet about my lack of success in that area and seemingly glad to have me holding irregular “office hours” in that yellow basement room. It didn’t seem to bother him that I had a graduate degree and no real career. He was still proud of his own.
I don’t have a takeaway or a specific reason for sharing these recollections. I just want to document a few of my most ordinary memories in writing because I’m realizing that anything I don’t intentionally remember, I may well forget.
On a much lighter note but still on the topic of memory work… let’s talk about preschool.
The Preschooler’s teachers have sent home some papers explaining their goals and expectations for the kids as they work on letter recognition and other preschool skills this school year. Right now, a primary focus is on recognizing the letters of the alphabet and the sounds they make. I don’t recall doing this with the older two girls, so maybe they just picked it up on their own? But, we have a worksheet to use as a guide, and the Spouse has been going over it with the Preschooler at bedtime.
The problem is she has no idea what any of these letters are, but she confidently identifies names and sounds for each one. He’ll point to “S” and she’ll yell, “double-u!!” Then he’ll point to “T” and she’ll yell, “double-u!!” You know when you’re in church or Sunday School the safe answer to any question is always, “God” or “Jesus.” So it goes with her that the safe answer to any question about a letter is always, “double-u!!” And, one out of twenty-six times she is correct. Or in this case, two out of sixteen times she gets it right.
We also have a wooden alphabet puzzle she’s been working through with the Spouse at night to practice the other letters. He’ll point to the letter “P” and say…
Him: What sound does it make?
Her: Shh, shh, shh!
Then they go to “R”…
Him: What sound does it make?
Her: Wuh, wuh, wuh!
In her defense, she struggles with the “r” sound anyway, so this is not really fair. But, the Spouse is becoming exasperated. I’m just glad this is our third child and I’m a lot more low-key about things of this nature than I was with the first one. In the same way that I’m sure she’ll eventually sleep in her bed through the night all seven nights a week, I’m sure she’ll eventually learn all the letters and sounds of the alphabet. It’s just not likely to happen before Christmas… or under our tutelage.
Thinking about the alphabet and phonics reminds me that last week I had this conversation with the 4th Grader:
4th Grader: We’re going to have a substitute today because my teacher is helping her daughter move to Arizona.
Me: Oh, yeah? Which city in Arizona?
4th Grader: I think it’s Phonics.
My guess would be Phoenix, but who’s to say there’s not a Phonics, Arizona as well.
Happy Halloween! And, may your trick-or-treaters be happier than ours were the year I thought the pumpkin pajamas would be cute…
Or the year someone hated her poodle skirt…
Or the year Minnie Mouse dropped her pizza…
Or the year we had an angry leopard on our hands…
Hopefully all your people will BEE healthy and happy this Halloween!
Enjoyed a peak into your Father’s private life, and your new Yellow office! I love yellow!
The pouty Halowe’en pictures are so amusing! We have some like that. When there are 3 children pictured together–there’s always one different! Your Education was not wasted–one iota! Keep writing!
Thank you so much for the encouragement, Reba. I think you spend your days cheering others on and loving well.