Saturday, December 10, 2011

My father's birthday

Today is my father's birthday. I thought that I would share some of my memories of him.

My father enjoyed his birthday. The day meant something special to him. When I was a kid, my mother and I would surprise him with presents and a home made card. I wanted to make sure that I had a nice present for him.

I can remember a set of cuff links that we bought. He wore them many times and they seemed to accent his starched white shirt. I still have those cuff links as well as many other things that belonged to my dad.

After I was out of the home and married, my wife and I would take him presents. He was always appreciative of our thinking of him. I could tell that he still had that little bit of child within him on this day.

He was born in the big farm house on a snowy morning in Virginia. I talked to a very elderly lady many years ago who remembered how my father's elder sister ran across the snowy fields to tell the neighbors of his birth. It was a happy occasion that a son was born.

After he died, it gave me a lot of pleasure to hear about his birth from someone who had been there and seen him when he was a baby. It made him seem alive in their memory of him.

My father would share a lot of stories about growing up on the farm. He told me about getting up on cold mornings and running down the stairs to stand in front of the fire in the dining room to get dressed. He told me about mornings that he and his father would ride on horseback for several miles to meet up with other riders for fox hunting. He told me about hog killing time and curing of meat in the smoke house. He shared about oystering and fishing on the family schooner. It was a different day and time back then. But I was spellbound by his stories.

One of the more poignant things that he told me was that for Christmas there would be candy and an orange or apple in his stocking. This would make me cry because of guilt that I got so much. I think now that my father might have been doing a bit of manipulating as his parents weren't poor. Maybe it was his way of making me feel grateful for those things that I received.

He never forgot the community though and would go to visit old neighbors whenever he could. At Christmas, he would take gifts to those old timers that lived near his birthplace. He enjoyed sitting around a fire and talking to them about the old times. I believe that he was a romantic at heart.

The farm was sold and the old farmhouse fell into disrepair. At least I have photos of it. And I did an oil painting of it when I was a young teenager. I remember going in the farm house and seeing my father's room upstairs. The house was empty then, with only the echoes from his past still present. I always thought that was sad and developed a feeling at that time that houses have souls too. I still believe that.

Many of the people that he grew up with have died. All of his siblings are dead. One died from alcoholism. I don't know what happened along the way in life for her or my father to have decided that drinking was a source of solace. It's a question that everyone asks who has an alcoholic relative. How did the child born in innocence become tainted by life?

Anyway, I guess all this rambling is to tell you that I still miss my dad. I would like for him to know that I'm thinking about him on his birthday. I like to think that his spirit lives on in me.

20 comments:

  1. I think of my father during the holidays. We grew up in his family home. It is a gift of the program and working the steps that helped me to forgive my father. The disease had him in it's clenches during my childhood.

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  2. It's nice that you have those found memories.

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  3. i imagine you always will miss him...cool on visiting the old neighborhood and listening to the stories...

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  4. This made me think of my father as well. Thanks.

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  5. What beautiful pictures Syd, both the one taken with a camera and the one you painted with your words.

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  6. what a great posting about your dad,I still miss my dad as well.I know that I will both Him and Mom some day.Big Time Hug my friend.

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  7. My father's birthday is the sixteenth of December. Your remembrance is familiar in detail and tone - with his childhood farm being in Pennsylvania. I had no image of the snowy morning he was born in the farmhouse, one of six children. Your photo gets at the spirit of the man, the black and white and gray under the big bright personality and frantic energy. It is quiet and simple and puts me in the Christmas mood, his favorite holiday.

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  8. Your loving remembrance of your father was a delight to read. You have a good heart, Syd.

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  9. His spirit definitely lives on in you. And nice that you respect him. I never knew my dad, but much later in my life(after he had died), I met his wife. She told me great stories, and gave me some personal items of his. It gave me a great sense of closure.

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  10. What wonderful memories! I love hearing old stories by my family members. I completely agree that homes have souls...

    A very beautiful photo.

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  11. Good memories and stories are so wonderful and warm :)

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  12. It is nice that you honor your father in your memories.

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  13. I so enjoy your posts about your father and his life story -- a romantic at heart like his son!

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  14. I like tumbling through the memories of my loved ones on special days, too. There is much comfort there.

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  15. Thanks for your beautiful post on your Dad. My dad is 76 and struggling with Parkinson's disease. I am reminded when I read something like this to really enjoy our time together.

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  16. This is sweet. Your dad reminded me of mine. He acted like his birthday was no big deal but then I'd see a hint of the "child" in him too. =)

    I miss my dad too. I'm glad you have good memories of him. It's nice to listen to all the stories.

    My dad said the same thing... oranges and apples in stockings, hmmm...?

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  17. :) Lovely.. Thanks for sharing Syd..
    My Dads birthday is not far from your Dads :)
    I went to his house recently too. Was an odd experience. In a good way. Very sad. I think it was his pain imprinted on the house and the contents. I would have liked to be able to take away some of that pain while he was alive but he was stubborn in his outlook. You can't compare and who ? knows all the factors that made him the way he is.. but I always wanted him to be a happier person I suppose. At least it all changed right at the end. We had more in common then..
    Thanks for sharing your story about your dad :)

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  18. It's clear your father lives on in you because you're also a fine storyteller.

    I miss my dad, too. He was born on an icy January night in a small two-up, two-down house in a milltown. He was a kind man and I hope I carry some of his kindness. x /G

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