I wish I could tell you in appropriate words how very proud I am of you; not for what you have been, and not for what you are; Not the least among these things is the quiet reassurance I have in my heart that you will love me even when the years grow even heavier upon my shoulders, and the burdens of Life continue to take their inevitable toll, and inscribes upon my forehead, “vacancy.” — From a letter from my father in a Valentine’s Day card, 1991
Happy Father’s Day! This is my dad and me in 1979. The summer before we’d been homeless for a spell staying at the Salvation Army, living off the relative kindness of strangers. Eventually, my dad had enough money to rent a room in an old hotel above a Western Auto. It was located in a small town in the Arkansas River Valley along the southern edge of the Ozark Mountains. I loved that town. It had a nice pond. My dad made me a homemade fishing pole and taught me to tie the line and bait the hook. I loved catching and releasing perch. I loved playing in the rushing creek. If the water was low I could cross it jumping from rock to rock — as a shortcut to Wal-Mart where I longed to buy a $1.99 tube top.
Dad and Me, Arkansas River Valley, 1979
Gen-Xers share a collective persona but no two Gen-X childhoods look quite the same. My childhood is just one illustration in the would-be documentary of #GenerationX.
Dad — I love you. I always will. I forgive you. And, please forgive me. I know you do.
Please share a nice story about your dad in the comments if you can. Also, here is another post about my time in the Arkansas River Valley. It’s about a girl named Eddi who became my best friend.
You can walk barefoot. Just have bread and cheese. Wear summer clothes for the winter. If you have a family that loves you, you will always have extra vitality, more laughter than tears and a soul that is proof of the worst life can give you. Blessed is your father, you, your husband and children. Thank you for sharing your memories.