My dad was a professional truck driver. It's all he knew ... at least that is all he pretended to know. I suspect that he knew more than he let on. My suspicions were always proven correct whenever I heard him speak to others -- especially and particularly when he didn't think I was listening.
What daddy lacked in formal education, he made up in street smarts. He had a cowboy wisdom that rivaled many philosophical thinking. He was down to earth and only put on airs to get a rise out of you. I think he did that only to show you how ridiculous you were being for putting on a pretense. But that was his way. Showing you by example -- even if it meant that he looked foolish.
One picture stands out in my mind whenever I think of my daddy-- it's of him standing at the kitchen sink giving his baby girl a bath. (And yes, that baby in the sink is me!) Not really sure why that one stands out more than all the others I have of him. It just does! He was so young in that picture!
Even in jeans and a plain white tee shirt ... he looked like a prince! Black wavy hair and dark eyes framed in long thick eyelashes, daddy stood at an even 6'3. Everybody said he looked like James Garner. But I always thought daddy was better looking! (naturally!)
Daddy loved animals and they adored him. Truth be told, he was Dr. Doolittle in disguise. The man could charm any creature with little to no effort. It was something you had to experience to appreciate.
I remember when I was about 4 years old, daddy had taken me to Shawnee Park to fly a kite, it was there we came across an injured crow flopping about on the ground. Several cats were standing back waiting for an opportunity to pounce when daddy pulled his shirt off, threw it over the injured bird and scooped it up. We hurried home so fast, I had forgotten all about my kite!
When we got home, daddy was able to assess the crow had been shot by a B.B. gun which had been the cause of it's broken wing. I stood back-- amazed how the Crow just lay there and allowed my father to work on him. They both spoke a language I didn't quite understand ... it was like some kind of secret code that only they knew!
For the first two weeks, the Crow's home was this huge over sized decorative bird cage my daddy had borrowed from my grandmother. Every morning, right before sunrise, and again every evening before the sun went down, my father would open the cage and feed the black bird. During the feedings, I would watch and listen to my father as he spoke to the Crow--and the Crow to my father.
Daddy would always offer his arm for the Crow to perch, all the while offering words of comfort and encouragement to his new found friend. The first week, the bird declined. Towards the middle of the second week, our feathered visitor had succumbed to my father's charms. Each day daddy would coax the Crow onto his arm. It was funny when he would wave his arm up and down so the bird would flap it’s wings. Daddy told me he did this so the bird could exercise.
I remember the first time Daddy took the Crow out back and let him fly around the yard. This became a daily ritual -- once in the morning and again in the evening. The Crow would always return and land back on my father’s arm. After a while, the Crow would fly past our yard out further and further--each time returning, landing on his arm.
One day, after a month of exercising, the Crow flew out of sight and was gone for most of the day. Later that evening, the Crow returned. He sat on the chair on the back porch cawing until daddy came out. In his beak was a single silver thread. Hopping on daddy’s shoulder, the Crow dropped it into his hand. A tear fell down my father’s cheek as the Crow flew away -- never to return.
Daddy carried that thread in his wallet throughout the years. A reminder of a bond that was forged during those weeks.
This is one of my favorite memories of my daddy. There are more of course. But somehow … I feel this memory best sums up who my father truly was -- deep down.
It is the memory that defines the man I came to know and appreciate.
What daddy lacked in formal education, he made up in street smarts. He had a cowboy wisdom that rivaled many philosophical thinking. He was down to earth and only put on airs to get a rise out of you. I think he did that only to show you how ridiculous you were being for putting on a pretense. But that was his way. Showing you by example -- even if it meant that he looked foolish.
One picture stands out in my mind whenever I think of my daddy-- it's of him standing at the kitchen sink giving his baby girl a bath. (And yes, that baby in the sink is me!) Not really sure why that one stands out more than all the others I have of him. It just does! He was so young in that picture!
Even in jeans and a plain white tee shirt ... he looked like a prince! Black wavy hair and dark eyes framed in long thick eyelashes, daddy stood at an even 6'3. Everybody said he looked like James Garner. But I always thought daddy was better looking! (naturally!)
Daddy loved animals and they adored him. Truth be told, he was Dr. Doolittle in disguise. The man could charm any creature with little to no effort. It was something you had to experience to appreciate.
I remember when I was about 4 years old, daddy had taken me to Shawnee Park to fly a kite, it was there we came across an injured crow flopping about on the ground. Several cats were standing back waiting for an opportunity to pounce when daddy pulled his shirt off, threw it over the injured bird and scooped it up. We hurried home so fast, I had forgotten all about my kite!
When we got home, daddy was able to assess the crow had been shot by a B.B. gun which had been the cause of it's broken wing. I stood back-- amazed how the Crow just lay there and allowed my father to work on him. They both spoke a language I didn't quite understand ... it was like some kind of secret code that only they knew!
For the first two weeks, the Crow's home was this huge over sized decorative bird cage my daddy had borrowed from my grandmother. Every morning, right before sunrise, and again every evening before the sun went down, my father would open the cage and feed the black bird. During the feedings, I would watch and listen to my father as he spoke to the Crow--and the Crow to my father.
Daddy would always offer his arm for the Crow to perch, all the while offering words of comfort and encouragement to his new found friend. The first week, the bird declined. Towards the middle of the second week, our feathered visitor had succumbed to my father's charms. Each day daddy would coax the Crow onto his arm. It was funny when he would wave his arm up and down so the bird would flap it’s wings. Daddy told me he did this so the bird could exercise.
I remember the first time Daddy took the Crow out back and let him fly around the yard. This became a daily ritual -- once in the morning and again in the evening. The Crow would always return and land back on my father’s arm. After a while, the Crow would fly past our yard out further and further--each time returning, landing on his arm.
One day, after a month of exercising, the Crow flew out of sight and was gone for most of the day. Later that evening, the Crow returned. He sat on the chair on the back porch cawing until daddy came out. In his beak was a single silver thread. Hopping on daddy’s shoulder, the Crow dropped it into his hand. A tear fell down my father’s cheek as the Crow flew away -- never to return.
Daddy carried that thread in his wallet throughout the years. A reminder of a bond that was forged during those weeks.
This is one of my favorite memories of my daddy. There are more of course. But somehow … I feel this memory best sums up who my father truly was -- deep down.
It is the memory that defines the man I came to know and appreciate.
*~Addendum~*
There’s an old black Crow that has been visiting me every day since I moved here. He sits on the railing of my back porch cawing until I come out and throw him a few bites of bread and lettuce. A part of me likes to believe this Crow is the descendant of the old black bird my father rescued all those many years ago. A part of me likes to believe this is my father’s way of reminding me of the wondrous circle of life we are all a part of.
But most importantly ... As I stand back and watch my winged friend take flight ... I am reminded that the Love my father and I shared through the years goes far beyond where the Crow flies.
In Loving Memory of Robert J. Cole ~ August 30, 1934 - July 7, 2006
Excerpt from The ZEN of Duct Tape: An Empress Is Born
Known as The Empress of the Known & Unknown Universes™ and The Diva of Duct Tape, Julia has made it her personal mission to put Reality back into Spirituality™.
Julia sets out to assist people in expanding their conscious awareness through her rather unique and personal take on the human experience. In the style of Erma Bombeck, Julia utilizes her own brand of humor and down to earth demeanor to get her messages across in an all so delightful way.
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