my Father

I don’t know that this may be of much interest to the reader but I found myself wanting to write about my father anyway

Of course I’ve given my father much thought during these last few months and maybe more since his recent death

I find that I try and remember little things about my dad- for instance- my dad only ate the runny yoke of an egg- using his dry toast to soak it up- I always thought it was pretty disgusting but now find the vivid memory a colorful simple reminder

My dad rarely wore shorts and didn’t care too much for the beach- although we went every summer- leaving on a Thursday and returning on Sunday- always after attending the local church that early morning

My father stopped smoking years ago— but before he quit completely he would allow himself three cigarettes a day-one after each meal

He didn’t talk much— I would have to say- the first year or so after his dementia appeared- we talked more than all the other years combined

He was tight with a dollar and once gave a robber only half what was in his wallet

My father hardly ever complained and it wasn’t until I was grown I realized my daddy never did like his work

My dad would read his newspaper cover to cover but didn’t care much for reading books

My father loved bridge mix candy and would always get himself a small bag of it on our weekend trips to Sears and Roebuck

Although he grew up in the country with a big garden and lots of chickens— he didn’t care for any of that— and even being a good Baptist- he did not like chicken

So many memories so many feelings but I think I will forever see my dad through my childhood eyes and hold him there always