Photo Courtesy Pepboys.comGrowing up, my father was always repairing something that was broken. More often than not, it was some bombed-out used car. Seriously, my father spent most of my childhood under the hood of a car trying to get it running again.
Once, he was under a jacked-up car and the jack collapsed and the car fell on him. I remember yelling for help. My mom came out and lifted the car off of him. Wild times.
My dad always had rough hands sporting numerous small cuts. I always asked him how he got the little pink fleshy nicks and he always said he didn't know. "I bleed like a stuck hog," he often said. I miss my dad.
A couple weeks ago, after two years of dealing with dryer lint all over my basement, I finally set out to put an end to the problem. I discovered it was the absence of a $2.50 coupling. I must have heard my father say the word "coupling" 1,000 times while I was growing, and I couldn't have been more disinterested. I really wish I'd paid better attention because I could have saved myself a lot of cleaning over the last two years.
Mostly, I wish my dad was around so he could have put that darn coupling on for me. As I pulled the thick twisted wire apart to situate it on this silver tube thing that attaches to the dryer it snapped back and took a little chunk right out of my thumb. Now, I have a pink fleshy nick just like the ones my dad always had.
Once, he was under a jacked-up car and the jack collapsed and the car fell on him. I remember yelling for help. My mom came out and lifted the car off of him. Wild times.
My dad always had rough hands sporting numerous small cuts. I always asked him how he got the little pink fleshy nicks and he always said he didn't know. "I bleed like a stuck hog," he often said. I miss my dad.
A couple weeks ago, after two years of dealing with dryer lint all over my basement, I finally set out to put an end to the problem. I discovered it was the absence of a $2.50 coupling. I must have heard my father say the word "coupling" 1,000 times while I was growing, and I couldn't have been more disinterested. I really wish I'd paid better attention because I could have saved myself a lot of cleaning over the last two years.
Mostly, I wish my dad was around so he could have put that darn coupling on for me. As I pulled the thick twisted wire apart to situate it on this silver tube thing that attaches to the dryer it snapped back and took a little chunk right out of my thumb. Now, I have a pink fleshy nick just like the ones my dad always had.
Thanks, dad, for all those times you slithered under a car and spent the entire day on your back trying to get it running again. I forgive you for all the times you got mad at me for not holding the flashlight still enough while you tried to fix some strange thing - a solenoid or manifold - alternator or carburetor. I was bored and daydreaming about playing with my dolls or calling my friends or watching TV. I wanted to be anywhere, but holding that flashlight steady.
***
My father convinced me if I didn't go to college and get a degree, I might as well go jump off a cliff because I'd be a worthless sack of crap without an education and my life would not be worth living. I realize now that he pressed me from the inside out with the fear of disappointing him, because something was pressing him from the outside in -- the fear that I would relive the disappointments he had endured. He knew that college was my ticket out, and I took that ticket, and in 20 years, I've never been stranded. If only he could know, now, that what kept me from being marooned in blizzard conditions was nothing I learned in college, but rather, the Faith that was his own.
21 comments:
Hello
Sorry to answer in the comments, but yes you can say I'm from Texas. I don't do a lot of generational writing, but I do enjoy the subject. I'm glad you posted a comment. I think I'm going to like your blog.
Knot
What a heart-tugging tribute to your father not to mention a piece of perfect, beautiful writing. Your blog rocks. You rock.
How fortunate you were to have such a wonderful, loving father. Now I know where some of your heart comes from. He is so very proud of you!! & so am I.
A beautiful post dear girl!! Thank you for sharing this memory.
Blessed be...
interesting blog, I'll have to come back and read more, thanks
What a beautiful tribute.
This sounds just like my Dad.
My siblings and I are always fixing things ourselves just like he did. We didn't even realize we were learning these mad skills.
Beautifully written Jen--
I recall those days too.
I also remember my dad doing the same thing.
Some years ago there was a song written entitled "Daddy's Hands."
The words were profound and have more meaning to me today than when it was written.
I miss those Beautifulm scared hands of your dad and grandpa.
Thanks for sharing.
Love you-- Mom
I can itentify with your memories of your father. My father was also adament that I attend college for a better life. He also loved fixing things and would always head out to my car when I visited to check all the connections, oil, tire pressure, etc.. I sure miss him, especially at this time of the year. I loved your reflection which is why I keep returning to read them.
Have a joyous New Year! Blessings, Katie
Nice entry, Jen.
In some ways I think our fathers are alike. Although with my dad he was always talking about epoxy. He'd squeeze out dolops of goo from two different tubes and mix them together into a gray gloop and then apply it to whatever gizmo was broken and like that it would be fixed...most of the time anyway.
And, I can totally relate to being yelled at for not hodling the flashlight steady or for handing over the wrong tool. It bothered me then, but its a fond memory now.
Keep up the good work, Jen.
I enjoy your stuf, always.
Chris Lopez
Jen--that was a beautiful post to your father. It made me quite wistful that I was never able to have a great father-daughter relationship--it's something I completely missed out on. How lucky you are to have been able to have that with your dad. I am so happy for you.
I wanted to stop by and wish you peace and light in the New Year. Take care, my friend--
Melinda
Jen you write so eloquently and straight from the heart, that's one of the reasons I keep coming back to read your heartfelt stories.
My late father helped me a great deal as well, although he never really roused on me for not being attentive.
All the very best is wished for you and your family in 2009.
Love
Peggy
JenX67, I 'm not sure how best to reach you so hopefully you see this comment. I'm one of the three writers for Genxls.com; I wanted to respond to your comment on our blog. I'm glad you enjoyed the post and our blog in general, you are more than welcome to link to it anytime. Also, the three of us are from New Jersey, I saw your list of states and didn't see good old NJ so feel free to slate us. By the way, you have a really nice site, I got caught up in reading through it before leaving this comment. Feel free to stop by our site again, you can reach us back just by posting a comment.
Best regards,
Cayge
I have been thinking about you and your loss of your dad this Christmas. This was a great rememberance of him, it is really the small little things that remind us of all of the deep and important things. I know you miss him, I am so sorry. I hope your angel is a comfort for you. Have a Happy New Year Jen and I look foward to sharing more with you in 2009!
Oh, I can relate to this so well. My dad was never under a car - or even the hood of a car, but he had me holding many the thing for him when I was distracted and wanting to be elsewhere. If it wasn't a piece of wood he was sawing, it was a bag for for grass-clippings or bush-prunings.
He was the one who pushed me to make something of myself too.
Thanks for jogging some old memories, Jen.
If I don't get back here before Jan 1, have a great New Year's with the family and much joy to you in 2009.
Kat
P.S. How's your brother doing?
Kat
That's lovely, Jen.
oh hon you have a way ... the words make the image in my mind and I hear your voice so true and steadfast ... my best and more to you for 2009 Jen - le xoxoox
Outstanding post, Jen. Your dad sounds like mine - he was a shade tree fixit man for as long as I could remember. I lost him young, but my memories of him linger. He was a quiet, taciturn man, but I learned much of life from him. I especially appreciate learning from him about honor, respect and a good working ethic. It has stayed with me all these years. He would have been 96 this year if he had lived. Sadly missed...
I enjoy your blog and will be following along. I hope your New Year is a happy one...
Peace,
Alden~
I'm just popping in to wish you with god speed for 2009.
I'm blessed to know a small part of you this past year.
LOVE this post!
I don't know what is more impressive: the beautiful way you have with words or the fact that you FIXED A FREEKING DRYER. wooo-hooo. It took me two days to figure out how to run mine--a coupling to me is something people do in the privacy of their own homes.
You rock. All the best to you in 2009.
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