This One's For the Dads and the Granddads ...

I really did not plan on writing a post today.  It's been a rainy on and off kind of weekend.  My one foray into the world consisted of taking one of the babies to the vet yesterday morning.  After a rather challenging week, all I wanted was to cocoon and close the door on the world.  It's been a lazy kind of weekend.  The kind where you have a "To Do" list and you wind up doing absolutely zip of what was on your list.  Instead you bake, write, watch movies, sketch a bit.  Suddenly you find it's almost time for bed and weekend's over.  Time to up-armor and get yourself ready for another week.

Reading the news, I found an article entitled something like "Bored Dads at New Direction Concerts" with accompanying photos showing dads bored out of their skulls while their daughters giddy with joy watched their favorite group perform. Looking at the photos, I thought, now, THAT's a DAD.  I remembered one of my father's favorite sayings "That is a father's sacred duty."  He came up with that one when I was about 13, 14 and was going to see Bobby Sherman in concert.  One of his buddies was shocked he was going INTO the concert with me, not just waiting for me in the lobby.  Nope.  Not my Dad.  He was going to the concert with me.  Which I totally loved, it was like having my own private bodyguard who bought me all the posters for sale at the concert and when people blocked our view of the stage, he, very gently, tapped them on the shoulder with the rolled-up posters and asked them to either sit down or move.  He once stuffed cotton in his ears because, as he told my Mom, his ears almost bled from all the screaming at the first concert.  It became a ritual with us, go to the concert, then out for dinner.  Usually at my favorite restaurant ... McDonald's!   Yeah, I was a gourmet even then ... not.  Years later, a few weeks before he transitioned I was sitting by his bed reading, he had been sleeping, I looked up and he was looking at me, his memory came and went in those last days, he always knew me, but he didn't remember my childhood.  The look on his face was so intense, like he was trying very hard to remember, then he said "I must have been a very good father, because you are such a good daughter."  I told him "That is a daughter's sacred duty, Daddy!" He didn't remember his "sacred duty" saying, but I hope I made him feel even just a tiny bit as secure, safe, loved as he made me feel when I was under his care.

At one concert in Disneyland, he started screaming along with the girls, but stopped when a policeman walked by and gave him "a look."  I will always remember my big, strong Dad yelling along with my friends  and me "Bobby, Bobby!" and my friends saying I had the coolest Dad.  None of their dads went to concerts with them.  My Dad not only took me to see Bobby Sherman, we also saw the Beach Boys, the Rolling Stones, even Rod Stewart (he called him "El Rubio Loco" which means "The Crazy Blonde").  At home sometimes he would launch into  his Rod Stewart imitation.  I am sitting here laughing and crying at the memory.  He has been gone over 10 years, sometimes it feels like centuries, others like yesterday.  Whoever said time passing makes the loss easier was out of their gourd.  It doesn't, you just learn to deal with it, you put on your big girl bloomers and head out into the world.  You give thanks for the good memories, slap on the Spackle, trowel on the make-up and off you go.  I always remember the line from Simple Abundance to "bless your circumstances, through gritted teeth if necessary."  That is one of the best lines ever written.


I am thankful for those dads and granddads that take the time to go to the concerts with "their girls."  I thank God they still exist, because sometimes in our consumer-obsessed society it seems like family values have fallen by the wayside.  So, it is wonderful to see there are still dads and granddads out there who take the time to take their daughters to concerts, who look out for them and endure ear-bleed provoking screams.  Those are memories they and their daughters will carry in their hearts for the rest of their days.  I was blessed to have my Dad and my Abuelo in my life.  My grandfather walked me to school and back home every single day of my life, until we moved to Miami and he became ill.  Before that, he was like clockwork.  We would walk to school, talking and going over my homework, particularly if it was math, never my strongest subject.  He would be there to walk me home, no matter the weather.  In rainy weather, there he'd be, huge umbrella at hand, holding my red galoshes and raincoat, which he would carefully button all the way up, then tuck me under his arm and raincoat and off we would go.  I loved those rainy walks home, because I knew that my Abuela was waiting at home, hot chocolate and buttered toast on the table.  He taught me to dance. My parents and grandparents, always made me feel loved, safe.  Something kids always need, especially now, more than ever.  So, this one's for the Dads and for the Granddads who take the time.  Who love and protect.  Walk to school and walk home.  Make lunches and snacks.  Review homework, check spelling.  Spin fairy tales and are at the ready to ride to the rescue, no matter the time or place.  May you flourish and grow and may there be many, many more of you.

Until next time, be blessed, be safe and be kind to one another.