Father’s Day is the day we dedicate to Dads. The day for celebrating all the memories and lessons our Dad’s have given us. Today, I am choosing to savor the memories of some of the little, simpler things Dad brought to us. He taught us to tear apart beaver damns, get out slivers, spit on things, make crackers disappear, give wedgies, pin pairs of socks together, drive a five speed, walk on stilts, give “turnovers,” suck ice cream out of the bottom of an ice cream cone, cuss, drive a lawnmower, cut hair with the use of a bowl, to make the best paper bag popcorn, to make paper mache volcanoes that could really explode and to enjoy burgers, fries, apple pie and ice cream! Here are a couple of other simple memories that I love:
My Dad could make our computer talk. It’s 2009 now, so this may not seem like a big deal, but way back when we first got our Apple IIE computer it was! He could make the computer take our names (mine, Aim’s and Nic’s,) swirl them around and spit them out telling us which chores we had to do. Following the magical act of designating bathroom clean upper, dishwasherer and vacuumer, he would make the computer say, in a very 1980’s robotic voice “It’s not my fault!” He could also make the computer say, in the same robotic voice “pooh balls!” Not sure why “pooh balls,” maybe because he was trying to keep his humour “PG” and pooh balls, was definitely more PG than “shit balls, “ anyways, it always made us laugh!
It used to be a huge treat when Dad would come horse back riding with us. He had this big, fat mare he called, Cinnamon. She had this long, wild, tangled mane and she was mean to every other horse on the farm, but she was Dad’s horse, and somehow that kind of made her cool. Dad didn’t come riding with us often, but when he did it was always fun! I remember once, when I was old enough to ride my own pony, just Dad and I went for a ride in the pasture. We got far enough away from the house that the safety patrol couldn’t see us (not that mom was a mean safety patrol, every parent should be cautious when their favorite child, me, goes out riding,) but we were far enough away, that she couldn’t tell us not too, so, Dad leaned over and said to me: “Wanna race??” Before I could consider the danger of the gopher holes, the fact that my pony could run right home or get out of control, Dad and Cinnamon were off! I snugged down my helmet, put the heels to good old Missy and chased after them! We ran and ran until I was sure Cinnamon was gonna have a heart attack. I had never galloped, completely uninhibited, on my pony before and I have never forgotten that day.
Sometimes our whole family would go for a ride. Mom and Aim would double on Jake with Aimee riding behind the saddle hanging on to mom. I would ride the pony by myself and Dad would double on Cinnamon with Nic. What is memorable to me now, was how Nic used to have to ride up on the pommel of the saddle, straddling the saddle horn! Dad didn’t want to share the seat and Nic didn’t seem to mind. One time, Cinnamon tried to lay down and roll over while Nic and Dad were sitting on her back! Dad bailed off, hollering at Nic to unwrap her legs from the saddle horn.
Though it was usually Nic who would ride with Dad on the horse, we all got to ride with him on his Honda street bike, usually all three of us at once! I would ride behind Dad with my feet on the passenger pegs, Aim and Nic would squish up in front of him, fighting over who had to sit on the gas tank. We would ride through the yard singing and screaming “Yaba daba doo time in Bedrock city!!!” We’d just yell that the whole time we’d ride. When the ride was over, Dad would let us each spit on the muffler because it was so fun to listen to our saliva sizzle!!!
I have a million great memories of Dad, but today I am cuddling up to the simple, little, insignificant, but not forgotten ones!
Miss ya Dad!!!