Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Wish you could see my garden where a number of your pieces reside. I have a stool you made from a big, fat tree stump. You fitted it with three legs and varnished it up good. It’s a slice from a swamp maple that once grew on a Mississippi River bank. When its leafy days were over you thought that wood’s too pretty to throw in the fire pit. You didn’t trim the skirt of bark. Maybe you thought the dignity of the woodland resided in that rough protective coating. Maybe you thought it just looked better that way.
You took the trouble to drive it across the country to my house and now it sits on our front porch next to a Majesty Palm (Ravenea rivularis). The stool came out of the Mississippi bottomlands and the Palm is native to Madagascar. Two plants from opposite sides of the world sit comfortably together. Nearby the Atlantic tides cycle through the day.
You recycled before we had recycling bins. There is something spiritual about making a new use out of something that is about to be discarded. Its life isn’t quite over. You put on your practical thinking cap and gave it a second chance. From many examples, you gave your children the seeds to look at the true value of things, take no things for granted and chose re-making as part of living a satisfying life. I know,” live within your means” was a favorite mantra out of your mouth and into our ears.
These words reside in the realm of cyberspace. A place we never knew existed when you were here. Maybe in that unseen orbit you’ll run into them. It would make me happy to think that could happen.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD.