A Fortunate Daughter

Some daughters are fortunate enough to have grown up with a father who had “all the right stuff.”  I’m one of them, thank God.  Those almost-magical ingredients include a sense of humor that’s either witty or silly depending on the circumstances; an unwavering sense of justice and honor; constancy; intelligence; determination; and unconditional love for family.

I’ll share just a few good memories:

• The Willie Nelson/Waylon Jennings concert in Oakland.  To this day, whenever I hear “Mama, Don’t Let Your Babies Be Cowboys,” my mind goes directly to our family rockin’ out to those two legendary entertainers.
• The Lovin’ Spoonful concert in Santa Barbara.  Back when I was deep in the throes of Beatlemania, I was devastated that I couldn’t attend one of their concerts.  So Dad took me to see a real, live rock & roll band.  How did he stand the screaming girls around us?  It had to be sheer love for his older daughter.
• Traveling across the U.S. on a family vacation to see historic sites; touring British Columbia, Canada; yearly vacations to Lassen National Park.  The four of us had a blast on those trips; there was a lot of laughter.  And singing (thanks, Laura!).  I’ve had the travel-bug ever since, for which I’m deeply grateful; I’ve learned so much about myself and the rest of the world because of my journeys.
• As an adult,  going to see Joe Cocker in San Francisco, just me and Dad.  How many women would actually want to attend a concert with her father?  Well, I don’t know; but I loved it!
• Christmas.  Easter.  Fourth of July.  Happy holidays, all of them, thanks to my parents.
• Birthdays. Dad and Mom always made me feel special.
• Church.  The whole family went to church every Sunday; it was the foundation of my values.
• Ties.   Dad always liked the ties I picked out for him; or at least he pretended really well that he did!
• Dad’s owl imitations.  I’ll say no more.

Thank you, Dad; I love you.   I’m truly a fortunate daughter.  Happy Father’s Day.

Ch…Ch…Ch…Changes

Remember that old song about “Ch…Ch…Ch…Changes?”  Well, maybe you’re the wrong age to remember it, but I do; and it’s a particularly relevant refrain to me at the moment; for the school year is coming to an end here in north Idaho, and when it does, my teenage son will be a SENIOR.  How this happened so quickly is, of course, unfathomable to me.  So says every mother, and it’s true; our children grow up all too fast.  The little towheaded boy who clung to my finger and loved doing everything with Mommy now looks down at me from a superior height and is only interested in accompanying me if 1) I’m going to buy him running shoes, 2) I’m driving him somewhere he wants to go.  Oh, every once in awhile he’ll deign to go out to lunch with me or even attend a movie with me and his dad  (as long as it’s in a different town, where no one will see him with his parents).  But for the most part, the ‘rents are pretty uncool, and, increasingly it seems, and not especially bright or wise.  Do I miss the good ol’ days when my son thought the sun rose and set on Mommy?  Of course I do.  On the other hand, I do enjoy many aspects of his approaching young-adulthood, like his quirky and clever sense of humor, love of history, artistic sensibility and philosophical bent.  This coming year will be an important one for him; he’ll be working as an assistant yearbook editor, running on the cross country team, keeping his grades up, improving his SAT scores, filling out college applications and searching for scholarships and grants.  It’s kind of a big year for me, too; I’ll be starting a new job, helping my son get ready for college, and trying to adjust to the fact that he’ll be leaving home a year from this fall.

Ch…Ch…Ch…Changes…. I hope we can adjust, bend and grow with them; with grace.