What We Gave Each Other
Lasting Father's Day Gifts
My father liked to give gifts. Everyone knew this.
He happened to be home one evening when I had a bunch of friends over from the neighborhood, and they all saw me exit the front door and join them on the lawn waving a 10-dollar bill in front of their faces.
“I just told my dad I like his preserved pike he has mounted on our dining room wall and he handed me this,” I chuckled.
Apparently, my mom had recently told him his obsession with taxidermy must be relegated to the basement where various other animal heads featured.
One-by-one, the guys hurried into the house to say, “Hey, ah, Mr. D, I like that fish on the wall!”
And sure enough, he handed all of them bills too.
He always carried a lot of cash in his wallet.
He was not easy to buy for, though, because he simply purchased whatever he wanted quite impulsively. Always the latest in electronics: A CB radio we all played with (I chose the handle, JabberJaws), stereos & special speakers for the car, jewelry—a thick chain necklace, hunting supplies, Old Spice cologne, fishing equipment, and even a VCR player for his pin-striped Aerostar van. And later in life, old Western novels from the used bookstore in town. I didn’t even know he liked to read before he started collecting those books.
I never knew what to get him for holidays.
One year, I bought my dad an Angels jersey with babysitting money. Not because he liked the Angels or even followed baseball much. And not because he had any affiliation to Los Angeles. I just bought it because I liked the colors and I needed a Father’s Day gift for the man who had everything. It was a whim really.
My dad wore that shirt out!
Mom laughed: “Your dad must love that shirt because he wears it all the time!”
There was always an underlying smirk in reference to that jersey. As if they knew I didn’t buy it for any associations with the team. I think he liked it simply because it came from his daughter.
And it did look good on him.
If he were still here, what would I buy him for Father’s Day?
He has no military medals for me to display & honor in a nice shadow box. He never could enlist because of his scarred lungs from a childhood case of pleurisy & pneumonia that very near took his life. He had no interest in WWII novels or other military paraphernalia. He didn’t play sports either, except golf. And I think I got him enough golf balls over his lifetime.
Maybe he’d like a hearty plant for his deck that would last the seasons and wave in the breeze to remind him of my love.
The way rustling trees remind me of his.
I can’t think of what other gifts I gave him over the years. Only what he gave me.
Even in my latest project: 🔗 My Father’s Daughter. 🔗 It’s the life he gave me.
(Go ahead & click that link to check it out 📖)
That’s one of his major accomplishments (and you might agree if you knew the story).
The legacy he left behind.
Now that it’s down on paper—it’s something I can hold onto. It’s kind of like a gift we gave each other.
Even if you have a complicated relationship with your earthly father, you have a Father beyond this place to look to.
Look up, child.
Happy Father’s Day.
{I always love to hear your comments & see your ♥️s. Let’s continue the conversations by connecting.}
Love this pic!
Excellent!