This made me smile because it captures something I've noticed too: childhood rarely remembers the things that went according to plan. We remember the detours, the discomfort, the stories that seemed disastrous at the time and somehow became family folklore years later.
Maybe a successful childhood isn't one where everything works out, but one that leaves you with stories you're still laughing about decades later...
Glad it prompted a smile, and amen to your definition of a successful childhood. Goes for adulthood as well! Stories are my favorite measure of actual wealth.
Emily, this is such a lovely portrait of your dad.
What I admire most is that you never once said, “My dad is wonderful.” You just gave us story after story, and by the end we knew exactly who he was.
The dad I see in this piece is:
* Adventurous.
* Optimistic to the point of absurdity.
* Not detail-oriented.
* Deeply generous.
* Uncomplicated.
* Fun: the strongest evidence is Isaac.
“I’m never going anywhere with Uncle Tom again.”
he keeps going.
Why?
Because Uncle Tom is fun.
* Loves his family more than he loves comfort.
You casually informed us that your dad was barefoot, and then moved right along as if this required no further explanation. (I think it’s one of your signature moves as a writer. I suspect this is how you keep us coming back 😅
Twenty-four hours later, I’m still wondering.
And I love that this was clearly a Father’s Day piece without ever announcing itself as one. It feels much more meaningful to show us who he is than to tell us what day it is.
Beautifully done.
Thank you, Emily for sharing your beautiful memories.
The joy of reading what readers, especially one as clever and talented as yourself, get from my pieces is really something marvelous. Thank you for sharing your glimpse with me!
You nailed the description of my dad, and made me laugh out loud at parts.
“Loves his family more than comfort” is spot on. Comfort is just not a high priority which is partially why he was river floating without even sandals. Also, we were just scraping by back then, and an extra pair of shoes for just this purpose was a luxury he could live without, and not even think about it.
One of these days I’ll write about his mom from whom he inherited much of his ability to “make do” and not prioritize comfort.
What a beautiful Father’s Day tribute! ❤️ Your dad sounds a lot like 90’s dads everywhere. Thank goodness most of them now understand the value of snacks.
Deprivation has its uses.
One of your best pithy quotes!
“Mosquitos thrilled by their evening feast…” That’s a great formulation!
This made me smile because it captures something I've noticed too: childhood rarely remembers the things that went according to plan. We remember the detours, the discomfort, the stories that seemed disastrous at the time and somehow became family folklore years later.
Maybe a successful childhood isn't one where everything works out, but one that leaves you with stories you're still laughing about decades later...
Glad it prompted a smile, and amen to your definition of a successful childhood. Goes for adulthood as well! Stories are my favorite measure of actual wealth.
The Dateline fake-out got me.
Ah! Made my day to know this!
Love, laughter, and a little chaos make the best memories!
Indubitably!
Emily, this is such a lovely portrait of your dad.
What I admire most is that you never once said, “My dad is wonderful.” You just gave us story after story, and by the end we knew exactly who he was.
The dad I see in this piece is:
* Adventurous.
* Optimistic to the point of absurdity.
* Not detail-oriented.
* Deeply generous.
* Uncomplicated.
* Fun: the strongest evidence is Isaac.
“I’m never going anywhere with Uncle Tom again.”
he keeps going.
Why?
Because Uncle Tom is fun.
* Loves his family more than he loves comfort.
You casually informed us that your dad was barefoot, and then moved right along as if this required no further explanation. (I think it’s one of your signature moves as a writer. I suspect this is how you keep us coming back 😅
Twenty-four hours later, I’m still wondering.
And I love that this was clearly a Father’s Day piece without ever announcing itself as one. It feels much more meaningful to show us who he is than to tell us what day it is.
Beautifully done.
Thank you, Emily for sharing your beautiful memories.
The joy of reading what readers, especially one as clever and talented as yourself, get from my pieces is really something marvelous. Thank you for sharing your glimpse with me!
You nailed the description of my dad, and made me laugh out loud at parts.
“Loves his family more than comfort” is spot on. Comfort is just not a high priority which is partially why he was river floating without even sandals. Also, we were just scraping by back then, and an extra pair of shoes for just this purpose was a luxury he could live without, and not even think about it.
One of these days I’ll write about his mom from whom he inherited much of his ability to “make do” and not prioritize comfort.
Love your recollections that sparked some of my own misadventures with dad.
Misadventures...that's a great descriptor. Glad the piece sparked some of your own dad memories!
What a beautiful Father’s Day tribute! ❤️ Your dad sounds a lot like 90’s dads everywhere. Thank goodness most of them now understand the value of snacks.
Thanks much! And thank goodness indeed...the value of snacks is NOT to be underestimated.