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| sanded |
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| back together and refinished with something from the garage |
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| for the living room |
Today ... notes on what I've been happy to remember today:
I love that.
When I was very small my dad would sing a little thing ... my dog has fleas ... as he tuned his little guitar. My dad liked to sing and brought the gift of music to our family. This isn't about that though I do dearly cherish that particular gift.
My dog has fleas ... he sang that with humor sparkling his baby blues. My dad, well ... he was probably the coolest dad ever. My dog has fleas (G,C,E,A) ... remember that he said and went on to say everyone, every single one of us, whether we can see 'em or not, has a dog with fleas ... and our flea ridden dogs are always in need of a bath. My own little dog was actually named Stinky.
Every one of us has a dog with fleas. Remember that.
Yes, sir, I do.
Let sleeping dogs lie, just remember their fleas may not be napping ... .
Okay Daddy, I'll try to.
Later in life when some opportunity to judge a fellow traveler might present, my dad would simply raise his brows just slightly and quietly hum ... GCEA ... it was his way of saying we're all in this mess together and we all have dogs, companions, perhaps of our own selection, still, stinky dogs with fleas.
"Fleas hop from one dog to another, you know that right?"
"Choose your own dogs as carefully as you may, teach 'em manners, and learn to master them ... and be aware of the dogs of your companions," he'd say, "...but mostly know that dogs have fleas ... you gotta be careful of the insidiousness of fleas."
I laugh as I remember. Gosh, it made perfect sense and still does to me.
My dad wasn't judgmental. Guess I didn't even know much about that 'til I was older ... he was the 'til I walk a mile in their moccasins type of guy ... . He was pretty awesome at extending the grace except where it came to keeping us safe ... well, and with politicians, who he was quite leery of.
I like that there was room in his way to allow people to be who they were and that he was so authentically, unabashedly, who he was ... that seems in short supply these days.
I miss him.
2 comments:
DeAnn, what a lovely little coffee table. Unlike the one in my living room; which I'll have to take a pic of and send to you, along with its story; I doubt many feet will be stretched out on its surface.
Here's a lovely little book which would compliment it nicely: "Modern Prints and Drawings," by Paul J. Sachs. I found s copy for myself at an estate sale, and it rests on my coffee table now. I page through it often during moments of idleness.
I miss my Dad, too, DeAnn. He'll be gone six years this November 25th.
This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Hi John,
I'll look for the book on Amazon ... funny that you mention it, I thought this morning that all it needs now is an interesting book or two!
It's precious to have loved the dads so much to still be missing them. Like you, I think of my dad often, and I think I know pretty much what his thoughts on most topics would be. Actually glad that he was spared seeing many of the current trends!
Always gladdened to see the closing invitation to rejoice and be glad.
Thanks for dropping by ...
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