In
my first memory of my dad, he’s a heroic figure. I don’t know how old I was when
the memory was formed, but not very. My mom worked
outside the home when I was little, and there was no kindergarten in Arkansas at that time. This
meant that up until first grade I spent much of my time with Dad. On this one
particular morning, we’d driven down into the field to check on the cows after
a night of heavy rain.
The
cattle were in a field on the other side of our creek, and the place where we
normally crossed the stream was running too high to drive the truck through.
Dad parked and we walked along the creek to where it widened out and the
rushing water slowed. It still looked like a muddy, swollen river to me, but
Dad picked me up and put me on his shoulders and waded across.
I
remember being a little scared and a little excited both as I sat up there high
and looked out over the world. With a daddy like that, what might one accomplish?
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22 comments:
Nice to have those memories.
I envy you such feelings about your father.
Ty, yes, very much so.
Snowbrush, he was definitely a good fellow.
Thank You, Charles. I'm sure you touched a chord in anyone lucky enough to grow up with an able Dad - particularly in early days.
Riding through Philadelphia's varied neighborhoods with my city-kid dad felt safe to this "rural suburban" kid! Same diff, eh? We both saw further from their shoulders. . .
Lovely-
ALOHA from Honolulu
ComfortSpiral
=^..^= <3
That's a special memory. Don't lose it.
That is such a neat memory! Speaking of dads, my dad really did take us to the 24-hour-doughnut shop at 1 am when I was little. Just like in the book ;)
Cloudia, I wish I'd had him longer.
Alex, I've been writing down a lot of these lately to preserve them.
Riot Kitty, I remember that scene. very cool.
I envy you those memories. My dad was a bum that left when I was three and was never seen or heard from agian. No money to help Mom raise three kids either.
def a cool memory...i remember riding in the old truck with my pops...it was just after a flood and we saw a bike by the river...he went down the bank and got it...we cleaned it up and it was my first real bike...
Randy, I hear too many stories of poor parents. I'm so grateful I didn't suffer through that.
Brian, great memory too.
Charles, thanks for sharing your memories of your dad. I've some wonderful ones too. He was close to being perfect.
I know that feeling, Charles. My dad was a giant stature of a man also. I still wish I could seek advice from him and be in his presence.
You have captured a nice memory!
Prashant, growing up I figured everyone had a great dad. Turns out not to be the case. We were lucky.
David, yes, would be nice to talk to him one more time.
Sage, thanks, man.
Love this, Charles.
On the shoulders of giants. No bigger giant to a child than a dad, for good and ill. Glad you felt the foundation beneath you, and not the earthquake.
Sarah, I was very lucky.
There is something about one's father, especially when young, that provides not only security, but a feeling of confidence. Many fathers are physically powerful, all of them are bigger than we ar at that age, and (in a Horneyan sense) we feel that they're usually on our side.
I can never get over how different your life is from mine. I remember standing on a chair at the dining room window, which looked out on the back alley and waiting for my Dad to come home, pull in the garage tucked under the rowhouse, and come up the stairs.
Those type memories are the best!
X Dell, and my dad really wasn't all that big and powerful in a physical sense, but emotionally he was very strong.
Patti, and yet we are friends! :)
Bernard, they are indeed.
I love the story and I love the way you tell it
Lisa, thanks much!
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