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| Blogs > wickedeasy > wicked and that ain't so easy |
want to prove you're a smarty pants?
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want to prove you're a smarty pants? I have a certain amount of time everyday now that I am quote unquote retired that is not taken up with stuff I should be doing, must do, could do. And in those minutes hours every day I have this vicious battle of the soul. I was raised by a mother who went from dawn until way past dusk, always doing and by a father who worked a job and took care of the yard but reveled in doing nothing. In fact it was the sweetest part of his life. I think it’s why he loved fishing so much. He chose the one leisure activity that is so inactive that it borders on being coma inducing. Now you COULD go after huge ocean fish and do battle for hours, but that’s not what my Da did. No, instead he would fly fish a river which is very Zen, an occasional flick of the wrist, sit motionless in a boat with a bobber floating on the surface of the water as the boat drifts, stand hip deep in a tranquil lake, the sun rising, silent, without a word, at peace……. He never napped, he never shirked duties, but when he went fishing, or when he sat down at night, .he was done with the world.  There were times when I thought he was an alien. I think now it was his way of coping with PTSD. His war had been brutal but he never said a word about it to anyone, not until years later when he had Alzheimer’s and then he would talk to his buddies as if they were there with him. About going home, about the deep need to be anywhere else but where they were. His jokes were funny but said sotto voce, often lost in the tangle of four , family chaos. I came to a place where I would listen for them, a wink received when I laughed. I was a wild that flew so fast the birds skittered out of my way. But I could curl in Da’s lap for hours, the smell of cherry tobacco, the rise and fall of his breathing, watching sun through pine trees chase shadows on the lake. We watched Old Yeller one rainy Sunday afternoon. Midway all the others grew bored but not Da and me. When it ended, he held on to me tight and let me cry. I patted his face to thank him. It was wet too. Now, being older, I wonder if he was crying for the boy in the movie or the in his lap or maybe for the boy who went to war and never made it home, least not in one piece. Or maybe he was just lonely. so take a day to do nothing......it's an art form. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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this is a picture of a picture of my Da fishing isn't he beautiful? [image] You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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Your Da, as so many of his Generation, was a hero! No medal of Honor but he was your Hero, and that was probably enough for him  Visit my Blog Older but no Wiser and find out more
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I do not have those kinds of memories of my father but boy do I remember the smell of cherry blend- it came in a white can with a red oval cameo on the label. I am one of the fortunate few who has learned that I can do absolutely nothing and feel no guilt. I held a full time time since I was 14 and finally no longer work. It took me a year to wind myself down to the "intellectual" do nothing but something. It is very healing. Thanks for a peek inside your memories (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
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Your dad's a man after my own heart. But I think the final word is ... [image] Trust in your feelings.
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Your Dad sounded so special. I never had that feeling with mine. . He wasn't that *touchy/feely* with us kids. I would have really loved a Dad like yours.
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What wonderful memories... My dad once printed out stickers that said something along the lines of "la dolce far niente" which was basically the joy of doing nothing. He put them everywhere but could never quite grasp the concept. I crave those moments of just.... being.
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Ah yes, it's been four months since I retired and I'm still mentally struggling a bit, with how little I accomplish most days  Nice for you that your da was a role model on how to truly relax.   
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There is great peace of mind to be found in doing nothing. Vive La Difference
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