Take for example my father and his ears. No, I don't mean that I didn't know he had ears. Considering he hammered flat any jingle bell or toy bell on any of my stuffed animals, and could wake from a dead sleep every time the fridge motor would kick on, it is quite evident that Dad has ears. By ears, I mean that just this year I was informed that Dad has a constant ringing in his ears, and has had since his Army days in Germany. I guess being on a tank and blowing things up takes its toll on the eardrums. Anyhooooo, my dad was talking about this ringing in his ears a few months back and I sat there dumbstruck, and then began to argue with him. I told him he was wrong. He could not possibly have a lifelong ailment such as this, of which I had no prior notification.
If using this same logic, it can be concluded that my father also has no interest whatsoever in drag racing! However, apparently (even without my knowledge), the drag race scene has been somewhat of an obsession of Pa's since before I knew him. Again, how could someone I spent all of my childhood with be involved with something and I have no awareness of it? We watched a lot of TV, and I do mean a lot of TV, back in the day. I remember bouts with boring golf games, even some tennis matches, and certainly about a million innings of baseball, but never ever did any funny car blaze the quarter-mile across our TV screen. Even still, Dad knows all the stats and stories of this sport. Is drag racing considered a "sport", maybe an industry, or passtime? I don't know.
So I'm left just scratching my head wondering, "How can this be?" That's where I'm at. Just dazed and confused. Makes me wonder what else was right under my nose that I never picked up. Were my brothers trapeze artists in the circus? Did my little sister sing, dance, and spit fire at the ward road-show?
Another case in point: my mother is a poet. This realization was brought into sharp focus this evening when I opened a scroll of paper my mom left on my kitchen counter during an afternoon visit with Squid. In her beautiful "mom cursive", the following verse came to life as tears filled my eyes. And I quote:
For Steffi
"The Book Bag"
Oh what magic I carry to and fro,
The treasures of one so young with years to grow.
The lessons from school, all the learning she's gained,
In the summer sunshine and wet days as it rained.
She has filled me with joy, as I carry the weight
Of jump ropes, papers, and rocks,
Hurrying as not to be late.
The papers all finished, the teacher has marked
with smiley faces and intellects sparked.
How many times she has drawn from within,
For with the jump rope she'll be challenged to win.
Oh now the rocks, each one such a beauty,
All sizes and shapes, treasured with loving duty.
Two years now she's carried me to and fro,
And now my seams are fraying,
And she puts me aside for a bag that's all new.
I've loved you Dear Steffi.
For your happiness I will be praying.
With love,
Your Book Bag
**Pause for dramatic effect**
Now, had I read this as a child, I would have just rolled my eyes and dismissed it as more crazy ramblings of my mom. Today, as a mom of little girls, I savored every word of this prose. I could feel the spirit in which it was written all those many years ago. My mom noticed and cherished even the smallest details of my childhood. What have I done today to capture a memory for my children, or let them know they are loved? Will they find themselves one day wondering how they could know so little about me after a lifetime as my child? I hope not.
Thanks to my wonderful parents for every fond memory I have of my childhood. Even if I wasn't aware of half of them!
No comments:
Post a Comment