Good Memories of a Father

Lazy summer days, where we’d be gone as soon as breakfast was shoveled in and return for various bouts of eating, until “last call,” that twilight time when the street lights began to flicker and hum louder than the mosquitoes that perpetually gnawed on me summer long. Dad would invariably be found, reclining in his chair, watching our 19” black & white television when we came in.

Hopping on the Stingray boy’s bicycle my dad had built from an old bike body and turned into the coolest custom ride I’d ever seen. Being the coolest in the neighborhood x10 when he then built a tandem bike and painted it red and put white seats on it. It always seemed safer riding a bike that my dad built than riding in the car he drove as he seemed to have a penchant for driving up on sidewalks after squirrels.

Standing out on the front lawn on the occasional stormy evening when the sky would suddenly turn a unique shade of pea green/yellow which meant tornado coming. Winds blowing–suddenly–they’d stop–even the birds somehow knew what was looming and stopped their incessant chatter. I’d stand out on the lawn with my dad, scared, but also invigorated because I was living life on the edge for those few minutes before dad would say, “let’s go in the basement.”

Hiding out the cubby hole in the back of dad’s 1965 VW Beetle after church and convincing my sister that she should go along with me in our trickery. He always knew I was there, but would pretend he’d “lost” me.

Dad, my sister, and I would ride the two or three minutes from church to grandma’s for lunch. My cousins would usually be there too. We’d hit the road, running all over the neighborhood through back yards and up alleys. There were no fences then, but there was the occasional very sharp, thorny row of bushes. I liked to visit on Saturday better when the penny candy store was open around the corner. I don’t remember ever having anything besides fried chicken at grandma’s, but I’m sure we did at some point.

Watching as my dad created a finely crafted wood and metal weather vane for my 4th grade science project. It stacked up more than nicely against the construction paper, 2-dimensional weather vanes the other kids did. I didn’t get the best grade on that project since all he had let me do was use sandpaper on it after he was done building it. I always thought he would have been happier being a carpenter.

Sitting out on the front steps with just a jar and a lot of patience as we’d fill the jar with as many fireflies as we could find. I wonder what happened to all the fireflies, haven’t seen one in years.