Some Quality Time with my Dad

I got to spend some quality time with my dad today. Actually, all the time I spend with my dad is quality time. He's a great guy, and I've always looked up to him, and quite frankly I doubt I'll ever be as great a man as he. Today I drove him to the hospital for his colonoscopy. My grandfather died of colon cancer, so this kind of test is important.

I was nervous, of course, for a few reasons. First and foremost, I love my dad, and I want him to be healthy. But also my mom depends on him, since he is her primary care-giver, and no one could ever take care of her with the kindness and gentleness that he does. If anything happens to him, my mom is in trouble. On his last colonoscopy, they kept him at the hospital a lot longer than we expected. It was well into the evening by the time I was allowed to take him home, which made for a very tense time. Anticipating the worst, my mom and I were both quite nervous today.

My dad on the other hand wasn't nervous in the least. He is so funny--he has a goofy, playful innocence about him, a lightness, with which he just floats through life with a smile on his face. He casually talks to everyone, making some clever or silly comment about whatever happens to be within his field of view, instantly making friends and bringing smiles. You would never guess that there was even an inkling of cynicism in my dad, unless you know him as well as I do. I know that he is very knowledgable about all the ulterior motives and hidden agendas, all the evil that can lurk in the minds of people. But he never assumes the worst about anyone (until he gets to know them, and then knows better). That's something for which I should strive with more effort, instead of being the distrusting cynic that I am.

So as I nervously drove my dad to the hospital, and walked with him through the hallways, thinking about the horrible possibilities that could possibly await him by the end of his exam, I listened to his running commentary (he really talks a lot!) about various stories from his career in the foreign service, and the changes to his schedule from last week's snowstorm, and the winding labyrinth of hospital hallways, and the green line on the wall we were following, and the foolishness of erecting buildings where there wasn't nearly enough space for another building, and whatever else went through his mind. He was totally unconcerned about those horrible possibilities that concerned me so much.

One thing that he said today, which I have heard him say before but which I always find very profound and moving, is that he said he and my mom have led a very interesting life together, and that he didn't think it was that interesting back then, but now looking back, he can see how very interesting it was. It makes me so happy to know that my dad feels happy and satisfied about his life, in spite of whatever hardships and tragedies he faced.

I remember I used to feel bad for my dad when he worked as a lowly paralegal (this was well after he left the foreign service), having a boring and tedious job, working for people who I thought were unappreciative jerks. But he actually liked his bosses, and his coworkers loved him. He liked his job, even though it was neither prestigious nor lucrative. I had no right to feel bad for him then--I just didn't understand. And now that I have a career of my own which I don't really care for much these days, I appreciate much more what it is like to have a job you like.

There's no doubt that it is a tragedy that my mom became ill, but I remember thinking it was doubly tragic since the burden of caring for her fell mainly upon my dad. I don't think he ever saw it that way though. He feels it is his duty to care for her, and he does it without reluctance or hesitation. There is much about their relationship about which I do not know, but I have a feeling that my mom's illness may have brought them closer together. When I think about the maturity and equanimity with which my parents deal with their problems, it makes me feel like such a child with all the anxiety and resentment I feel toward problems that aren't nearly as severe. Of course, my parents have had considerably more time to grow up, but man, I still have so far to go.

Anyway, it warmed my heart to hear my dad speak about his life with pride and satisfaction. His colonoscopy showed no problems (phew, what a relief!) so he will be due for his next one in five years. My dad jokes that he's not sure he'll still be around in five years. I sure hope he was joking, because I'd really miss him.

No Ideas

Haven't had much will to post lately. Just no ideas. My mom came home last Saturday, and she seems to be in much better condition. Still tired though, but I think (I hope) that's only because she has a cold. Other than that, not much to say. I'm sure I'll come up with some ideas soon. Or maybe I'll get myself a new camera...

Wow, I just realized I have over 100 posts--111 in fact! I didn't think I had that many.

An Exercise in Creativity

During the winter months when it's too cold to go fishing (and no, the prospect of sitting on my ass out in the cold next to a hole in the ice does not appeal to me), too often I find myself sitting on my ass letting the teevee rot my brain. I have made ambitious efforts to cultivate other hobbies practiceable indoors, but they have all sputtered out after a period of declining enthusiasm. Either the challenge is too great, or I just don't have enough patience, or else my skill level cannot compete with the demands of my overly self-critical expectations. One such hobby is pencil drawing, although this one I have not yet abandoned. I enjoy it very much in some ways. It's a wonderful feeling to be absorbed in an activity that engages your complete attention. And it's very satisfying to watch the page come alive with something you create yourself from nothing. But sometimes I become so focused on it that it is no longer relaxing. I get a headache from concentrating with too much intensity. And it's incredibly frustrating and discouraging when no matter how much I try, and how many times I erase and try again, I just cannot get something right.

In a previous post, I had a photo of me in my living room, and a few people asked about the "thing in the background", a piece of needlework depicting a dragon and phoenix. Since I am still without a camera, I decided to try to capture an image with my own hand. I am very happy with how this came out, even though its flaws are immediately noticeable. I always have a problem with getting the proportions right. The whole scene is supposed to be well-centered, with a uniform margin of empty space around the edge. The floating orb is supposed to be dead-center. I made certain things too big or too small which led to this skewed result. And there is more textural detail in the clouds and dragon's body which I left out. But anyway, this drawing gives you a glimpse at both my living room scenery and where I am on my road to artistic development.