Father's Day and Summer Solstice Share the Day!

Ten years ago last Wednesday (June 17) my dad died. We held his reviewal on Father’s Day which seemed appropriate….

A decade is a long time to not have a Dad. In many ways it seems like he was recently here … and perhaps he was. I think of him often. In the spring when wildflowers start to bloom, I remember trips we took with him down to the woods to pick wildflowers. He placed those delicate, carefully-picked blossoms on his parents’ grave to honor them on Memorial Day.

In the summer—today!—I recall Dad coming into the house after hours outside in the fields. His skin was browned by the sun, his tall, willowy frame rested, briefly, on a kitchen chair or in his recliner as he sipped a quick cup of coffee before heading back outside.

In the fall and winter Dad spent weekend hours in front of the TV watching football games, then basketball. A quiet man, he didn’t hold back when a ball was fumbled or a penalty called. He yelled at the television, shifted in his chair, or slapped his thigh, making his feelings known to all.

During the winter, between bouts of filling the woodstove, Dad read in his chair while listening to his short-wave radio or to his favorite classical music records. I attribute my love for reading to my dad who read to me as a child and who thought it was important to read; important enough that he took time out of his life to keep up on the news, learn new ideas, and expand his political philosophies.

I often think of Dad when I pour myself a cup of coffee. He had a reputation for making and drinking the strongest, blackest coffee in the area. Never a big coffee drinker myself, I now drink copious amounts and, as years go by, brew it stronger. Dad’s mugs sit in my kitchen cupboard and I use one almost daily.

I think of Dad when I sit down to write too. A writer himself, he typed poems and letters on a typewriter or wrote them by hand. I believe Dad’s spirit visits me when I labor over my own writing. Occasionally I wonder: Does Dad help me choose my words or phrases? Does he look through my eyes as I gaze out my office window into the surrounding forest? Does he help to inspire my writing topics?

This year—this 10th anniversary year—I remember Dad with love and appreciation as President Obama pays special homage to fathers by speaking about their roles and responsibilities. He reminds us that fathers are “teachers and coaches. They are mentors and role models. They are examples of success and the men who constantly push us toward it.” And, following his lead, others are honoring their dads in more public ways. At the end of NPR’s Weekend Edition today the programming crew named themselves and then identified themselves as a daughter or son of [their father’s name]. They finished with a group shout-out to their dads: “Happy father’s day.” Their group chorus was a special radio moment.

Today summer returns.… This afternoon I’ll remove plastic film from the inside of our windows. No more need for extra insulation (evening temps aren’t falling lower than upper 40s or low 50s most nights). Besides, after two days in the 90s, we need to open the windows!

This morning as I walked out the door I was surprised by two phoebes flying close in front of me. One flew straight up and tried to land on the house’s metal roof. It didn’t work, obviously, so s/he fluttered for a few moments and moved on. Another flew up and landed on a second story window frame. A third cruised right by me. And suddenly, I knew where they came from. At least two of them—the two fluttering and flying straight up the roof—were our newly-minted fledgling pilots. The third, I’m guessing, was one of the parents protecting their flanks.

The nest is empty! Our phoebes are gone! We missed their initial take off but I’m grateful to know that they made it. What a wonderful Father’s Day event for our feathered family!