Paternal

We celebrated Father’s Day today. Nice dinner, family activities, all Norma Rockwell of course. I have trouble with this day, since my parents divorced & my dad & I are the stereotypical estranged pair. I suppose it has to do with my issues about honesty & integrity (since when is adultery a cool idea?) but alcoholism isn’t a wise choice either. That’s all I’m going to write about it. You don't want to read about it & I've already sorted out my shit.

My grampa, who I was close to my whole life, having grown up about 2 blocks away, died in December 2003. He (my grampa) bought each of the grandkids our first 2 wheeled bikes, as he was an avid bicyclist. He died as the result of ALS (a.k.a. Lou Gehrig’s-same disease as Stephen Hawking) so there was no biking the last summer he was alive. When I was a kid, & up until 2002, we biked often in Police Point Park or Strathcona. Usually we’d buy some Mountain Dew for me & Coke (always Coke) for him & pedal to the park. We’d follow the trail below the golf course, eyeing the bottom of the hill for stray golf balls to take home. Eventually there’s a bench overlooking a nice spot that’d we’d stop at to have our drinks. Depending on the height of the river, we’d climb down the bank & walk, with me picking up calm shells along the way. Maybe we’d pick some chokecherries to eat if they were ready, or stop for a snake, porcupine or deer. Up until the late 80’s, on the way home we’d visit my great gramma or stop at the store for a dingbat—remember those?

I hope that my kids have “good” memories of their father, the way I remember my grampa. My son & I picked out books for my husband for Father’s Day—one about skyscrapers & the other about Da Vinci’s drawings. My son wrote his initials on the card we picked out. He still hasn’t decided if he’s left or right handed—maybe he’ll be ambidextrous since most kids his age have a clear handedness. Anyway, it was a good day, with a little bit of sad reflection on my part.