Postcards From the Lake: What's New

Life at the lake moves peacefully and at its own gentle pace. I find myself gradually and gently sinking into a sense of peace, calm and yes, even ease. The routine is not that much different than at home in some ways. Up early, give Lizzie her meds, check in online with mail and the daily New York Times games, then look at blogs, feed Lizzie, more online and then time to be productive. 

 

That includes watering the plants and herbs. I ended up bringing the rest of the potted plants from home to keep them from certain death if I left them behind again. There are more geraniums in the back yard.

Productivity. That's a loaded word. What is productivity, anyway? These days, I think most would call what I'm doing less than productive! Reading a book? Doing a bit of art? Running to the farm market? All more relaxing and fun than productive. But then, who said having fun or relaxing couldn't be counted as productive time. Self care. Yes, I like that!

If You Can't Be with the Dad You Love, Love the One You're With!

Not that I don't already love the one I'm with! Because I do! Lots and lots!

But there are lots of great dads and I wanted to celebrate not only Rick (aka the one I'm with) but two others I'm not with on this day.

There's my own dad.

I was lucky in the good-dad department. Mine knew how to read stories well and tell them just as expressively!

He loved fishing and was very patient at cleaning those others caught (others being me who wasn't about to stick a knife into a fish, even though I'd already jabbed them with the hook!)

Dad loved animals and introduced me to my first cat.

He also put up with my garments-on-animals, a trait which unfortunately didn't die out after the age of eight (below, with Dad's dad. Those knee socks have got to go.)

Not every dad would play the Barbie Doll Game with his daughter. And not every dad would, some ten years later, find her after the senior prom parking with her boyfriend and knock on the car window. I lived through the shame. I miss him more than I can say. But there are other wonderful dads in my life.

Like Kevin, dad to our Baby Grand, Carson. He has his Weekend MBA stuff on Father's Day so we will be celebrating with our little guy and his mom. Then they'll head home and do the same with Kevin.

This is a special Dad's Day for him. I'm not sure Carson "gets it" yet, but he's much more for a party with every passing month.

And this will be his last one to be the only, as his baby brother is due in early July! And if he doesn't like that, he'll let you know!

And then there's Rick. I'm not sure any dad could love his kids more -- or get more frustrated now and then! Like the day public transit fan Rick tried to get them to appreciate the bus by taking the bus to the mall. We probably could have chosen a better day. Don't we all look happy here?!

Some of my earliest memories of them as a family involve cooking and they've had their hands into not only American food but Japanese and Italian as well.

And they still all love it, each with their own best-things to cook. Kevin and Rick will always argue gas vs. charcoal but both love the grill. Greg will create astonishingly healthy dishes. And only Kevin will clean the kitchen well.

Now there is a new boy in the family and he will have a group of Grandpas who will love him to pieces. And I'm sure the other two would argue with this -- but no one, I think, could love him more than Rick!

Happy Father's Day to all the dads from then, now and always.

Three Dads Who Mean a Lot to Me

Loads of bloggers are saluting dads this week and I'm no exception! Here are three who have made a big difference in my life!

First, my own dad. This is how I remember him most -- hanging out at his ham radio set. I learned Morse Code before I learned how to write. I can't remember it now, but it was fun to have this secret language of dots and dashes. I suppose the first time I said "hi" to someone I could never see on ham radio was my first foray into social media! How he would have loved this wild and crazy blog world!

Then there's Rick. I've used this photo before because I love it so much. It may be the first or second Father's Day I was part of their lives and the expressions tell the story. I remember the gloriously easy and fun times and the tough ones, too. I know all the love, the worry, the fears and the joys a dad faces, seeing it through Rick's eyes. (And seeing that helped me to understand my own dad's. You think you do. You don't until you've lived it.)

And then there's this one. He's learning the ropes. The ups and downs of being a parent. And all the love that goes with it. There's just a little bit of us that hopes that our Baby Grand gives as good as his dad gave when he was a teenager! (Huh? Why do you want to know? I have a life, you know. Whatever.) Just enough! And I'm also confident he'll love this little guy and all who come after him, till the cows come home.

That little baby will one day, perhaps, be a dad of his own. Somehow I think he has a lot of legacy to live up to -- and I'm pretty darned sure his parents will prepare him for the challenge.

Not Quite Autumn at the Ditch -- and a Few Words About Dad

This is a rather long post -- two in one, actually. First, an early autumn walk through the ditch, then a few words about my dad, whose 100th birthday would be October 2.

The Ditch

A few weeks ago, after having passed up walks at the ditch for swimming, I decided it was time to check on Harry (not present this day) and my ducks, along with seeing if autumn was beginning to arrive.

 

The short answer is "not really." There are a few signs. Certainly the sumac is in full fall force.

And the goldenrod is looking pretty golden!

But for the most part, it's still fairly green, perhaps a more faded green, but green nonetheless.

On this flawless day, the ducks were sunning themselves in the reeds...

...and on the rocks.

Some had chosen the shady (if murky) "third" pond, enjoying the shade of the weeping willow.



Clearly it was a lazy day for the ducksters!


 
It couldn't be a better day for a walk, with spots of color from asters and berries.

Even the breeze was quiet, gentle and lovely. And soon, some color!

Dad 

This post is going live on the day before my dad's birthday, which is October 2. Had he lived, he would be 100 on this day. It's quite the number to wrap a brain around!

Rick and I were talking about things that had evolved or were invented during his lifetime and the things that had come about since. Probably the greatest invention during his life was the computer. He died in 1993, just as the personal computer was beginning to come into vogue. A few of his friends had one but they were very expensive and the internet wasn't really what it grew to be.

How he would love that! I could see him checking out his hypochondria on every web medical site and chat room he could find (and see myself talking him down!). He'd see places in the world he'd been, learn about things that were his passions. It would be the next communication step for this guy who cut his teeth on ham radio when he was a teenager.


It struck us that in large part, most things we think of now had  been invented or conceived during his lifetime -- but had evolved into something much bigger in the 22 years since. Before he was born, most wars were regional. He was born during WWI and who would have imagined we would still be fighting them today, even if they aren't called that.

Could he have imagined that he'd hold a phone no bigger than his hand -- one that could connect to Internet? Or that long distance would be covered by the "phone plan"? Or that just about every appliance ever made would have a computer chip within?

The airplane was invented before his time -- and the car. But they both came into common use during his lifetime and even more so after. Medical techniques have changed. Perhaps the lung drugs I use each days are the next generation of medications, having evolved from those he required to simply keep going.

Call me selfish, but from where I sit, the biggest thing he missed out on in these past 22 years was me. He never knew Rick and I know he'd be so happy to know that we are so happy. He'd be impressed by Rick's classical guitar and appreciate that he liked the lake. I can imagine him having long conversations with Greg on art (another thing my dad liked) and with Kevin about Ford. Dad was a Ford guy, for the most part. The Tempo not only got him through his years, but got me through more than a few after I totaled my car a year or two after he died.

He would have been glad to know I had a cat. He always liked cats but the only one of mine he knew was Stimpy, who made visits to him on his kitty leash. He'd had loved "let me crawl all over you" Gypsy and my sweet Purr Girl Lizzie.

Dad was always my biggest supporter (mom, too -- but that was so long ago) and he always worried. He'd be relieved to know that I'm OK. Yes, I think he is.

One hundred candles, one for each of the ways I value the things I learned from you and the memories we shared.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

A Legacy in Photography

Still curled up napping! I'll catch up with you soon, but until then, a few of my favorite posts, honoring people who have made a difference in my life. If you're new to The Marmelade Gypsy, I hope you'll take a few minutes to meet some people who mean a good deal to me -- and may inspire you, too.

I was looking through my past posts and I came across this one on my dad -- so many of you are new to The Marmelade Gypsy, so I thought I'd introduce you to another of the people who helped shape my life. And yes, soon you'll meet my mom.

* * * * * *
Journeys Past
January 2009

Several years ago, there was a series on public television called "The Story of India." It's a place I find India interesting in part because it's where my dad spent his military service.

In a somewhat futile attempt to clean the art room, I went splunking under the desk and found a box with photos and letters he'd written.

I also found (again) his photo album from that period.

Photos of the Indians in pose...and those who look caught unaware.

And at work, here on a tea plantation.


He spoke of his leave in the mountains where the tea plantations were, and of the farms in the north.

He also mentioned spending time with the daughter of a tea plantation owner, whom he described in a letter to my grandparents as being very easy on the eyes. (I wish he'd had a photo of her -- maybe I'll find one when I spend more time with these books!)

My parents were both fairly skilled amateur photographers and even as a child I remember posing for my mother against a backdrop with big lights. Spending time in the darkroom watching the images magically appear on the paper always fascinated me and while it wasn't a skill I picked up, I still mourn the loss of the magic of film (although the computer now seems to hold that magic.)

The point is, in discovering these photos, I realize that this was an interest that my dad developed long before he and my mother met. And some -- like the photo of the Indian woman and her baby, the snake charmer, the beggar -- almost seem to have a documentary-like quality that I find intriguing, especially given his innocence of the world at that time.

(Another thing I love about the originals is that they are all very small -- wallet sized. Yet when enlarged, really quite clear.)

His camera picked up sacred cows...

...street scenes...

Even the street beggars were captured in the camera lens. I wonder -- did he take this as a shocked young man who hadn't seen this before -- something to show the folks at home? Did he see it as a social commentary?

My dad always had a profound sense of compassion for others as well as a sense of acceptance that struck me as unusual during my time of adolescence. Beautiful, but unusual. Still, it wasn't until he died when the first African American to move into our all-white-bread neighborhood came to the funeral home that I realized how this made an impact on others.

"Your dad was the first person to come to come to our door and welcome us to the neighborhood," he said. "I will never forget his kindness."

Did this farm kid from Michigan learn that people were people, whether they looked like you or not, during his time in India? It sure didn't hurt.

This is one of my favorite photos -- the snake charmer! I can imagine him being fascinated by how the charmer was able to lure the cobra from his basket.

(I know this photograph fascinated me as a child. I sometimes wonder if he took it just to send my grandmother into a tizzy -- she had always been afraid of snakes, one of the few phobias that may have rubbed off on me a bit!)

Although I know he became very ill while there (malaria and something that popped up now and then in later years), he really found his time in that country fascinating.

It intrigues me, this look into the images that affected a man so many years ago. He was probably in his late 20s, maybe 30. I can't help but wonder if the young men in Afghanistan are experiencing the same things, and will their encounters with people different from themselves lead to acceptance and understanding as they age, or will the terrors of war override these experiences. India wasn't a hotbed of combat when Dad was there, and I'm not sure as a communications specialist if he ever even saw combat. That has to present a different image of a country.

Yes, I have some things he brought back with him -- an ivory box with elephants; two rosewood (I think) boxes he gave my grandmother; a prayer wheel, tarnished with the passing of time.

But the memories -- those are his. And how I wish I could ask him more about them.