As of this past month 23-year old J is engaged, 19-year old C is gainfully employed and attending college and 15-year old B has his driver's learner's permit. A lot has changed in the 9 years since I first wrote here. Some things, however, will never change. One of which is my love for family - immediate and extended, blood and non-blood.
Tonight my brother and I were reminiscing about the past. I mentioned a letter our dad had written to me 29 years ago that had a lasting affect on me. After hanging up with my brother I pulled the letter out to read again. Full of humor, trivia and advice here, in part, is a piece of my dad:
Thanksgiving
Day 1988
Dear Chris,
My mother still has an account on which I
get statements showing one cent interest per quarter. I wrote them and told them I thought we had
finally closed it out after much hassle.
I closed…”I can tell the account is still alive and well and living in
your files. Surely someone there has a
handbook of instructions which tells how to close an account. Please ask around, thank you and good luck.”
You cannot joke an enemy into a friend,
but you may joke a friend into an enemy.
I wonder if I would
have had my sarcastic dream that very night had I not written that letter. I dreamed your mom was in church and shaking
hands with the bishop as she entered the chapel. She said to him, “While sitting in church
last Sunday we could see how families certainly can be together FOREVER.” – referring to our
meeting of the previous Sunday which we thought would never end. Humor in dreams interests me, how did I come
up with that and then give the lines to her?
Good jests bite like lambs, not
like dogs.
Saturday
morning
I just finished reading a story about
General Dean. He was captured during the
Korean war. Being a general he was kept
separate and away from other American prisoners. For three years he was kept with and watched
over by Korean soldiers. After his
release, one of his observations was: things which used to make him angry
ceased to do so. One being they would
kick him with bare feet to get him to wake up, move or get his attention. Living closely with them he saw they kicked
one another to get each others attention.
He realized he was not being treated differently than they treated each
other in this regard. It was their
culture, their way of doing things.
Chris...Individuals and families have different
personalities just like nations...Don’t
interpret others response to you by your own way of dealing with people...
Do not break your shin on a stool
that is not in your way.
Not all people have the gift of perceiving
how others may feel. You are one, Eric is another. He asked grandma if
she minded living all alone and if she were afraid at night – and he is only
eight. I think I care, but sometimes too
slowly to react...
He that pities another, remembers
himself.
We spent most of Thanksgiving Day watching
my sister's grandbaby play and talk, she never cried. She liked your brother N, grabbed his face and
pounded on it with great excitement. She
has dimples and laughs a lot. I felt
guilty knowing how my sister would have loved to have been with us. Our Thanksgiving snow storm dropped 20” in
the mountains and was preceded by a strong south wind which swept our streets
clean. I guess the leaves ended up at
the elementary school.
Last night we went to the symphony. Beethoven’s Symphony #5 was the last piece of
the evening and the reason I selected the series I did. The second piece – Concerto for Violin and
Orchestra – was composed in 1980 and really had some good sounds, we liked
it. The person next to your mother was the kind
whose personal space laps over into that of those around them. I could sense it right off even with your mom
acting as a buffer. Right off she put
hand cream on along with all her thrashing around. It had a strong odor. I thought of leaning over and asking her if
she was planning to floss soon. We
traded seats at the half so your mom could have a break.
She that would please all and
herself too, undertakes what she cannot do.
Your brother G must have gotten food poisoning
Thanksgiving, we don’t think it is the flu. Your mom and I were up cleaning carpet, floor and walls and unplugging toilets
after him...
It is not enough to aim, you must
hit.
And
in closing out this anthology of news, observations and pioneer proverbs…
…My son is my son ‘til he hath got
him a wife;But my daughter is my daughter all
the days of her life.
We
all love you very much, Dad