Since my Dad was both born and passed away in September and the September just past marks ten years since his passing, I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. This is a memory from when I was about eight years old.
It was shortly after I got home from school and I was sitting on the couch watching TV. My Dad, as usual, had just come home from work. He walked into the living room and told me that it was nice outside and once the program ends, I’m to turn off the TV and go outside. I replied with the list of programs I wanted to watch next. He just repeated what he had said and left the room.
When the next program started, Dad came in and shutoff the TV. When I protested and refused to move off the couch, he picked me up and carried me out the door, put me down, then went inside, closed the door and refused to let me in despite my screaming and yelling. After a while, I realized the fuss that I was making wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I finally gave up, found some friends to play with and ended up having a good time.
The next day after school I was outside running around.
I don’t recall ever thinking about that incident again until after he passed away. When my Aunt June suggested that I should be ready to speak at his service, it was one of the first things that came into mind. I knew that I should talk about it because it told a lot about him. When he carried me out the door, I thought it was one of the meanest things he ever did to me. In reality, it was one of the best things anyone ever did for me.