Happy Father's Day

In honor of Father's Day, I thought I would recyle an older post.  It was previously included with a recipe I called Daddy's Ambrosia.  I read it again this morning and felt that it captured my sentiments exactly.  Here it is again.  I hope it helps you to appreciate and love your father a little more.

A Tribute to My Father

I did not know how much you loved me until recently. When I was much younger I expected your love to come in the form of hugs, kisses and tenderness. This was not your way, nor was it your father’s way. I thought if it wasn’t the Cleaver’s or Cosby’s love, then there was no love. And sometimes mothers, because of the challenges that they face with the fathers add more complexities, impediments and smoke screens. And while little girls need the affection of their fathers, they also need a whole lot more. For so long I was asleep but now I am awake. Now it is quite clear to me. Love is provided in many different ways.

You loved me when you came home every night of my life. I remember lying in my bed and hearing the quick heavy steps in the kitchen and hallway. There was never a concern of where you were, what you were doing and who you were with because you were working. You had your government job by day and your tax business by night. I did not ever worry about the basics. There were also piano lessons, sports and camp – all requiring an investment of time and money. Even with that we were given a weekly allowance after completing our chores. You provided a stable home thus a firm foundation.

I remember when you taught me to ride a bike. You propelled me forward and yelled Pedal, pedal, pedal! I swerved and wobbled along the street trying to understand the relationship between pedaling and steering my new bike. Later, you taught me to drive a car and yelled Stay in your lane! Learning to ride a bike was much more fun.

You loved me when you required that I be educated. How many times did you tell me and my brothers about the importance of education? Girl…guess what? I walked 5 miles to school. You told me that grandpa wanted both of his girls to be educated, just in case they ended up marrying somebody sorry. That was a pretty strong conviction to have for girls born in the 30’s and 40’s.

You loved me by sharing stories about our history. You were born in 1934 in North Augusta, South Carolina. It was not the best time but it was your time. When a teen, you had to deny that you were in school so that you could get summer jobs. They wouldn’t hire you if they thought you were smart and trying to get an education. No suh…I don’t go to no school. And guess what girl? At the end of the summer we quit those jobs. Oh yeah…oh yeah! Then, you laugh hysterically. Later, you took your education, went to the bus station and got a one-way ticket to New York. The decision of how far north to go was based on what you had in your pocket that day. You did not allow your history to be a problem for me.

You also talked about Big Ma’s (your grandmother) house and how everybody would gather there together on Sundays. Everybody may have gone to different churches that morning but on Sunday afternoon you met at Big Ma’s house. During the week, your parents and 7 siblings ate off the land and didn’t eat meat every day. Dinner might have been some field peas and tomatoes. Nawww girl….we didn’t eat meat every day. No, no…nawwwwww. You told me about pound cakes that could stand up because that’s how big and dense they were. Even today when you mention these pound cakes you take off laughing. From time to time you ask me if I remember going down to the country. Coming from Maryland, visiting North Augusta was the country. But while there, I remember going down long dirt roads that never seemed to end, a car without air conditioning, and hot vinyl seats that my brown legs stuck to in the dead of summer. So yes, I remember. You always ask me if I remember something…probably so I won’t forget. Isn’t this also love?

And throughout my life you have loved me through jobs, relocations and apartments. You ask me about bosses, friends and places I have long forgotten. I remember when I called to tell you that I bought my first home. I never heard such excitement from you. Girl, that was the best thing you could have done for yourself! Over the years, you have loved me in so many different ways. It doesn’t really matter if I was paying attention or not. I was still being loved.