Yesterday Derek Hobbs posted All of my favorite memories come from some old dirt road. It used to drive us up the wall when dad would always use back roads to get anywhere. The dusty orange and freshly grated roads would set the old Ford pickup into a bolt rattling and teeth jarring seizure until we found the haven of a paved road. Those little jaunts seemed to take forever. Dad would take whatever path he could to avoid that “damned, infernal, idiot choked, bumper to bumper highway 59. I like the word infernal. I know that it means from hell, but dad just has a way of saying it that made you immediately dislike whatever the “infernal damnation” was. Love it. Get em, dad. “Why dad, why?” we wondered, “You are taking up the whole day.” Mom would have had us there yesterday. Her job as a home healthcare nurse had her trained to zip that station wagon around Baldwin County like a New York taxi driver. Today I found myself and the jeep rattling and kicking up dust on those same old dirt roads as I subconsciously detoured onto one of them to get back home. “Hit that one on ya left, coming up.” Said dad in my head like some creole version of gps navigation system. I do it a lot these days. Especially the days that I pick up my son from his after school program. We cruise down those roads rocking out to Eddie Vedder or Matisyahu searching for snakes, hawks, or whatever God sends us that day. Sometimes one of our neighbors is flying his magnificent cobalt blue hot air balloon. We like to watch him land it on those evenings when we catch it right. We make up stories, how Like the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz, he takes people to see the land of Oz in the morning while we are off to work and school and gets them back before dinner so that no one knows they were gone. These are my favorite times. The times where I get to see the world through six year old eyes. There are other times where I am Gandalf the Grey, teaching a young bushy haired hobbit about the adventures and magic of the world. Hunter just thinks its all part of it. Whether it was long rides on those dirt roads, deep in the trees, or quiet boat rides on the river, Dad taught us about the world in those small times. I now like to think dad could slow time down back then and make it drag on forever so that he could be free of the woes of his grown up world that was full of “infernal nincompoops” and he could enjoy a little time with his sons. It is an awesome magical ability he had. Like a grateful apprentice, I will forever guard that which he has passed on to me. You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them. -Desmond Tutu It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons. -Johann Schiller
Posted on: Fri, 23 May 2014 11:57:02 +0000
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