"That's Okay, Dad. I'm Good."

Our Four Little Angels in 1987
Our Four Little Angels in 1987 | Source

The last of our kids left the nest this past June, when he got married to the girl from down the road. But even though Tim was the oldest and the one that has experienced (or endured) most of the fatherly advice that I had to offer, he still calls once in a while for some advice on “how to” or “how do I..”. It’s all good, I don’t mind at all. In fact, it makes me feel good to know that my kids still need me, especially after those teenage years when I was the stupidest creature on the face of this earth. My youngest calls from California for fishing advice, and my daughter calls from her home in Des Moines to ask me how much air she needs in her tires. I know that she knows this stuff; she just calls to talk without wanting me to know that she’s just calling to talk.

Some of the things that they call me about are things that I have addressed in my blogs here, or have gone over with them a hundred times before, like the fishing questions from Andrew, or the meat and seafood questions that Tim may ask (since his new wife requires that he is the cook…but that’s a whole other blog *ahem!*). I have engaged in numerous text messages with him as he stands in the meat department of a competitor asking me what he should buy. I firmly respond “Nothing. Come here and see me.” But he would rather not drive the 18 miles to my store. So to concisely answer his questions and those of his siblings, I send them a reminder link to this site and tell them which title to click on. Their usual response? “That’s okay, Dad. I’m good!”

Amy from Des Moines is a little more subtle with her answers, “I see.” But I raised these guys; I know a blow off when I hear one. Someday they will be clamoring for the written word that their dear old dad has put down; a day long after my wife has buried me (assuming I’m lucky enough to go first). It is for those days that I keep at it.

But what about Sammie? She never reads my stuff either. I could print it out for her and lay it on the kitchen table only to find it stacked by the chair in the living room with all of the old newspapers. But she admitted one time to going through my computer files and reading my stuff until she found 1 or 2 writings that she didn’t like, like the one about my Valentine’s Day point of view (not good) or the reason why I think buying jewelry is a waste of money (Why would she be ticked about those things?). But Sammie will continue to ask me questions about meat, fish and fowl. She will ask me about fishing and car care. But rarely will she ask me about how things are going down here in Lulawissie (as if she didn’t know already). She seems to think that I embellish it a little (or maybe more) to the point where she is worried that I may be going a tad insane. But what man or wife of thirty years or longer doesn’t think that their partner may just be a little “touched” in some way or another? My mom and dad were married for 42 years, and I learned at a young age that “to be committed” wasn’t necessarily pertaining to being dedicated to a relationship. They fought like cats and dogs, but were inseparable until the end, and my dad lasted 14 years without his bride that he was lovingly committed to.

I’m getting off the beaten path here…..

So it has been my observation from personal experience that no matter how old your kids get, they will ask for your advice and never listen to it. They just want to hear your voice. The older we all get, they know that “the silly old fat man” called “Dad” won’t be around forever. They think back to when they were all 14 years old, how I really was the stupidest man in the world (the oldest one shared his notes), and they remember the sudden realization that they had on their 21st birthday (or on the morning after, because I served them beer at the party) that this silly old fat man had learned quite a bit in the last 7 years.

Enough said.

It is a beautiful evening here in Lulawissie. I just took a walk out back to let Mimi tinkle and run down by the lake shore. There are a bazillion stars out on this clear, soft night. A light breeze has rippled the reflections of the lights from the South End Marina, and you can hear the distant cooing of the Ivory Bills out on Fahy’s Island. The treetops of the island are leaving a pristine silhouette against the rising moon. Ah, such God-given beauty blesses us every day.

So once again, my friends, I bid you a fond good evening. As always, do good deeds for someone you don’t know, give The Good Lord thanks for everything, good or bad, and always be safe.

Thanks for stopping by.

©2011 by Del Banks


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Comments 2 comments

Peter Parker 5 years ago

Yeah, dad... I totally don't read your stuff:)


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badegg 5 years ago from Southern Appalachians Author

Oh, Peter....

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