Welcome to the Father edition of Makes-Me-Smile Monday. Father is a complicated concept. It can mean as little as the accidental contribution of one of the tiniest cells in the human body and as much as Eternal Father. Mother, on the other hand, means a soft lap and wanting to press my nose in her neck, inhale and sigh deeply, something that would probably irritate her as much as my oldest wanting to snuggle me at inopportune moments does me.
But my father is somewhere between those extremes of sperm donor and god. I wasn’t sure about this when I was younger. I thought God must be like my Grandpa Hyatt (my dad’s dad): rather stern-looking and possessed of an awesome mean voice (when irked), and white-haired. I didn’t think I’d like God much either. Many girls have fond memories of being Daddy’s little princess; this is sometimes a plot device for setting up the heroine for serious relationship issues after the once-doting father abandons the family. I could no more imagine my father or grandfather abandoning their families than I could not loving my own children.
Perhaps this is one reason I like the show Alias; just like Sydney, the longer I know my dad and the more I experience parenting and life for myself, the more I love him and respect him. He has mellowed with age, and I have realized that arguing for argument’s sake is perhaps not — always — best. (Grandpa Hyatt smiles more now too).
When I was a teenager, I complained about having football-player thighs; my dad said I was lucky to have big (maybe he said strong?) thigh muscles: they’d help prevent knee problems later. My dad patiently taught me to use borrowing in subtraction when it seemed like the most unfair, un-intuitive idea ever. Later, when I studied calculus, Dad said it was one of those things that you only understand right when you’re learning it. I was so excited to know something, in that instant, that my dad did not.
At a daddy-daughter church event where fathers were to bring items that symbolized their daughters, Dad compared me to a wasp (stinging tongue) and Marcy (she doesn’t remember why) to a seashell. I don’t know if it was insensitivity or courage or inspiration that had him bring the dead wasp for me. I do know that I’ve tried, since then, to temper my tongue (if this surprises you, just imagine how bad it used to be!).
We had a cat named Bonnie-Jean Monster when I was nine; she had kittens in Marcy’s sock drawer, and we loved to play with them on the trampoline. One night we left the kittens out and the sprinklers got to them. A couple of the kittens were dead by morning. A couple others were halfway there, and my father stood in our garage with a hair dryer on the mewling kittens. I don’t think he even particularly likes cats.
Maybe my dad isn’t as different from my husband as I’ve always supposed. Temperamentally they are, but I think of a tape of music favorites my dad made about ten years ago. It included Rachmaninoff classical piano pieces, Marian Librarian from Music Man, and Joan Osbourne’s What if God was one of us. My dad is honest and candid and trustworthy and humble. I love him!
I hope you have a father story to share (not necessarily about your own father). To participate in the carnival, enter your name and (description) and post address so we can read all about it — and tell your dad (if applicable) to read it too. Or leave it in a comment. If you have any questions, send me an email or a comment.
(I reserve the right to delete any inappropriate links.)
Subscribe by email
OMG I love The Music Man! The best musical of it’s era (I can’t stand Sound of Music).
I can’t believe your dad compared you to a wasp. Surely there are more attractive things with stinging tongues. Actually, isn’t the stinger on the backside? I’ve also been accused of having a nasty tongue in the past, and I was guilty as charged, it came from being shy. As I became more outgoing, unaccustomed to such a way of being, I would blurt out whatever sounded good. Usually it was something that was funny at the expense of someone else, I had no mercy. I hope I’m better now!
“can’t stand the sound of music” — what! — are you crazy? aaahhhhhh. when i backpacked through europe we went to a couple of the houses where it was filmed, and i just burst into song!!!! love it!!! but music man is great too; definitely the best music. and my fair lady, and south pacific, on and on.
do you like modern musicals like moulin rouge? (i love it!)
on the wasp: i dithered on whether to include this paragraph or not. my dad’s taken a lot of heat about the incident over the years. better a wasp than a scorpion, anyway. i certainly hadn’t learned the difference between wit and cutting remarks at the time (hope i’ve learned a bit since then). so i’m not mad — really. (oh, and i could never blame my tongue on being shy; definitely on being insecure or unsure at times, but never shy).
I like Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals. I tried to watch Moulin Rouge and just couldn’t stand it. The music was fine, but the acting was just inane, especially Nicole Kidman’s. I haven’t seen Chicago…. I love Fiddler on the Roof too.
Sound of Music just annoys me to no end, especially Julie Andrews’ hair. So does Grease, I just do not get the appeal. Even the name is bad, and ONJ goes from sweet to slutty. How is that good?
Sorry to interrupt the discussion on musicals, but I have to make my contribution to the carnival now while my daughter is asleep. Since she started crawling a month and a half ago it has been difficult to sit at the computer if she is awake.
Well, I can honestly say that my Dad is the most patient person I have ever known. I can not ever remember seeing him angry, and neither can any of my siblings. He wasn’t even angry when I told him that I hit a post with the family van and ripped the mirror off the door, or when I was in a car accident at age 16 and totaled the car. He is always giving good advice on what to do if you need new brake pads or if the air conditioning in your car doesn’t seem to be working quite right. He loves to cook, though he doesn’t get the chance very often, and some of his specialities are Rice Pudding, Tapioca, and Cinnamon Rolls (all of these are made completely from scratch). One of my best memories about my Dad is when I was a sophomore in college and I was really stressed and worried because of a writing class that I was in and I didn’t have my own computer. I didn’t know how I was going to get all of my assignments done. I had talked to my mom a little about it one night on the phone, and the next morning, around 7 am, my dad called me and said he felt that he needed to give me a call to see what was worrying me. I remember almost crying when I talked to him because I knew he had been inspired to call me. He helped me as he has so many times in my life. He ended up giving me my family’s computer, and they got another one, even though they hadn’t planned on doing that right then. Another thing that my Dad loves to do is go camping, and this summer, he is taking all of his children into the Uinta Moutains for a a few days. We are packing in all of our gear, either on our backs or on horses. We use to do this a lot when I was younger but we haven’t done this as a family for a long time, so I am really looking forward to spending some time with my Dad again, especially since it will be in the mountains like we use to do.
Add me to the list of those who loves musicals, ALW or otherwise.
I enjoyed reading your post, what a beautiful story!
[...] Shannon’s latest Makes Me Smile Monday theme is fathers. When I think of my childhood and spending time with my father, I think of us playing catch in the field near our house. He always pretended I was throwing the ball so hard and fast that it hurt his hand. [...]