Posted Memories
 

Dad used to sometimes tell us bedtime stories, and one style he liked was to give us a listening test on his spontaneous story, which would be composed to challenge us. He might say that "a bus picked up 2 boys at it's first stop, an old man and woman at the second stop, let off one boy and picked up a family of 5 at the 3rd stop, let off the old woman at the 4th stop...." Then he might ask us who got off the bus at the 3rd stop. Who knows if he really remembered the answers himself? On camping trips, he would ask someone to sing him to sleep with a song as we all lay in our sleeping bags.

Another early memory is of him drying me off after a bath or putting on my shoes and always saying "Right hind foot up" then "Left hind foot up" as he wanted me to lift my feet. I guess that was his way teaching us left and right while also keeping the dairy farmer alive as he worked as an engineer in Detroit.

I also loved the way he would hold my hand as he walked with me, not by holding my little hand in the controlling grasp of his big hand, but by extending only his forefinger for me to hold on to. It seems like a metaphor for his approach to parenting: He didn't worry about making me stay close, but only provided a sense of connection, safety, and guidance when I needed it. (Altho of course he must have at times grabbed and held back little kids dashing off where they shouldn't ought to be.) He would occasionally extend that same forefinger when the two of us walked together even after I was an adult, and I still loved to hold on to the finger that was still so much bigger than my own.

I last saw Dad alive the first week in April, when I spent about a week with Mom and Dad. I was so touched by the nurturing way Dad and Mom cared for each other, almost seeming to take turns with their health crises so that one would always be there for the other during the worst, but also each seeing to the other's needs equally a hundred times a day on the easier days.

I noticed then the way Dad has always reacted to people who are voicing their irritations or spouting off a little steam: He typically would be there with them, often not saying anything, but not ignoring them either, just listening without needing to agree or disagree, defend himself, explain his view, or tell you to how to fix your problem. He always seemed to be able to let us show our less than perfect side because he remembered that we had so much more greatness in us than what we might be showing at the moment. You usually had to be messing up your life pretty badly before you'd get a lecture from Dad.

That same trip back to Michigan I needed to practice driving a little bit because I don't ever drive while I live in Japan, and after years of not driving I get pretty rusty. As was Dad's style, he never gave me a lecture on the need to keep my independence, never warned me to be careful, never expressed doubt of the wisdom of putting his car and his life in my hands. Instead, without me even asking, one day as we went out, he simply handed me his car keys and headed for the passenger seat. That's how he raised us all--he gave us the keys to a good life by providing us with material support and the example of the values he lived by, then he stepped aside and let us do our thing. And we've all turned out splendidly, if I do say so myself!


I can be contacted at jbeebe@gol.com

 

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