Below is a fuller version of a story I shared at dad's service. I'm so glad I made notes of what I wanted say because I absolutely do not remember the majority of it. As much as I dislike speakers who simply 'read' their remarks, I am forever grateful I did.
**********
My dad really enjoyed being right. And he was, more often than not. He was one of the smartest people I know and loved learning about new things, whether by reading or experiencing them. He was forever open to new adventures, people, and places.
Years ago, I was living and working in a small-ish seaside town in Nor Cal. My parents and siblings decided to ditch the central valley and spend a weekend in another town just to the south of me. (This town was famous for having a celeb mayor with the catch phrase, "Go ahead, make my day.")
But I digress.
My dad called me with directions to where they were staying and I diligently wrote them down. Yes, handwritten directions...this was long before printing mapquest directions, and light years from google maps or waze. It was the early days of cell phones too, when they were huge and clunky with horrible connections and mostly you had to shout to be heard.
I made it to the town they were in but could not seem to find the exit dad specified. I drove up and down the coast several times before I finally decided to call him. (Remember cell phone calls were SO expensive back then!)
While talking with him, I told him I could't find the "Fern Sin" exit he'd mentioned earlier. He was a bit testy with me and said several times that the exit is clearly marked. He remarked maybe I wasn't looking closely enough. Umm, ok.
Finally I said, "Dad, I can't find "Fern Sin" anywhere, but I keep driving by a "Fern Canyon" exit that's abbreviated, "Fern C-y-n."
Dad was silent for a long moment and then he said, "Take that exit."
**********
We laughed about it later and it evolved into a running joke in our family. A placemarker to remind us even the most intelligent people miss things. Make mistakes. Get confused. And that it's ok. It might eventually become a story you'll love to retell.
13 months, dad, and there's so much I want to tell you about.
No comments:
Post a Comment