Lost Poem Found Again

While cleaning out her office closet, Fiorella came upon a blank-verse poem she wrote many years ago:

Again and again and again
The old man asks
And I answer, loudly,
Because he is deaf
Again and again and again
He asks the same
And I answer him, patiently,
Because he used to be
My father

Passing It Down

Fiorella's brother unloaded two stacks of family memorabilia on her, and she is both thrilled and overwhelmed. Dad's high school graduation picture hit her hard, and the elementary school essay on Christopher Columbus by her uncle Russel, who died of a burst appendix when he was fourteen, made her cry. Then there were Mother's report cards and the  carefully preserved receipts for her payments on the loans she had to take out to pay for her final years of college.

The emotion is overflowing, but so are the chairs in the front room. So are the shelves in the bottom of the china hutch and the shelves beside the front room fireplace. How can Fiorella respect the memories that were precious to her parents, Husband's parents, and those back down the line without setting up a fire hazard? And how can she preserve the albums and photos and miscellany without unduly burdening her children?

One thing for sure--Fio better start winnowing her own memorabilia. No need to add to the pile.

Deja Vu Holiday

MERRY CHRISTMAS, RUSSIAN STYLE!

Dah, to honor her father's Russian Orthodox heritage, Fiorella leaves Christmas decorations up through the seventh of January.  Well, actually, she leaves them up a lot longer than that because she figures it took her a full month to put them all up, and she deserves to have a full month in which to take them down.

Enjoy!

Imperfect Parents

Fiorella's parents wanted their children to strive for the best, but they also wanted them not to be big-headed.

Thus, when Fio came home elated because she'd made 98.5 on one of Miss Osborn's quite challenging Latin tests and Miss O had written  "YOU ARE GOOD!" across the top of the page, Fio's father looked at her, smiled, and said "Why didn't you make 100?" And when he and her mother visited newly-wed Fio and Husband in their little duplex that Fio had spent days cleaning and decorating, all he noticed was the dust on the rungs of the rocker.  And when Husband made a room-to-room narrated video of Fiorella's lavish Christmas decorations, Dad let her know, with a smile, that Husband did a better job of narrating than she did.  What the heck!  She was the one who'd done all the work, who'd invested a whole month to hanging wreaths, bells, birds, swags, and ornaments!!

Why do these things still sting?  Fio knows her father loved her.

More to the point, what sort of dumb, unthinking, or mistaken things did Fio do to her own kids?

In Memoriam

Happy birthday to my father, who sang "Little Brown Jug" to me as he drove me to Sunday School when Mother was in the hospital giving birth to my brother, who taught me how to swing a golf club,  who financed my daughter's college education.  Dad had a generous heart and a noble spirit.
And I hope he is with me still.

Dreams of Eternity

Daughter had a dream in which Fio's mother appeared and told her to tell Fiorella she loved her.  She also had a dream in which Fio's father appeared, and he was happy.  Fiorella doesn't know much about the reality of dreams, but it warmed her to hear Daughter's reports.  She always knew her mother loved her, and her father always was a happy kind of person so she hopes they are eternal.

It gives her hope for her own ultimate future, and everyone else's.

The Constant

My father started playing golf a couple of years before he married Mother.  And he played it after they were married.  And he played it after my brother and I were born.  And after we moved to Texas.  And he played it after I went off to college in Austin and after I got married.  And he played it after Brother moved to Austin for college, then was sent to Germany by the army. And after his grandchildren were born  And after Mother died.  But not very long.

Macular degeneration had gotten the best of him.  And it was all downhill from there.

Sports

Fiorella's father watched sports.  Her husband watches sports.  Her sons watch sports.  Fio tried being a sports fan, but it didn't work out.  She comprehends playing games for exercise, tension release, and sheer enjoyment, but she doesn't get the competition angle. Who cares who wins a game?  Sports aren't wars. The only thing at stake is winning.

Fio doesn't understand.

Quickie

Looking back, Fio doesn't understand why so few people came to her father's funeral.  He went to all of theirs.

Maritime

Fiorella showed Son's fiancee how to make a boat last night, a small paper boat, that is.

Husband and Fio were dining at Chili's and, as is her habit, Fiorella denuded her napkin-wrapped utensils of their three-inch binding strip, tore it in two, and folded each half-strip into a tiny boat.  What else does one do while waiting for one's dinner?  In slow-serving restaurants, Fiorella has been known to launch flotillas.

After being presented with the first boat, Son's fiancee, who was sitting across from Fio, watched the production of the second one intently and tried to make a boat of her own, but ran into trouble.  Fiorella promptly grabbed the strip off of Husband's utensils and instructed her step by step.

It will take a while for Fiancee to get the technique down, but Fiorella is thrilled that she is interested.  Fiorella's father was the one who taught her how to make the little boat and now his legacy of love will live on.  

Nursing Home Visit

He sleeps, but does he dream, my father?  When
I visit twice a week, he wakes with eyes
near blind and looks, then nods to asleep again
He sees my shape, but does not recognize
his oldest child, his baby girl all grown,
who shouts her name into his better ear,
who warms his death-cold hands within her own, 
who scrubs the crusted food off from his chair.
Father beloved. where have you gone?  You sleep
but do you dream?  I kiss his innocent face,
smooth back the unkempt hair, loudly repeat
my name again, and pray to God for grace
that he may dream within his cobwebbed brain
of righteous battles won and dragons slain.

                                               

Lurching in Where Angels Fear to Tread

Fiorella absorbed her mother into herself, as Mother did hers. Mother valued reputation, appearance, and academic success so Fio tried to live up to maternal expectations.  Determined to give Brother and Fiorella the Dick-and-Jane childhood she had missed out on because of an alcoholic father, Mother made her home into a warm, safe nest, which Fio also tried to do for her children.  However, Mother  hung back from the kind of challenges and adventures that Fiorella confronts head-on.

In that, Fiorella resembles her father. Tally-ho!

Spirit of Love

How appropriate that Brother Bill and I are socializing this evening. It's our late father's birthday.

Dad believed in family. He didn't always agree with his siblings or some of the things they did, but he loved them. So when Husband and I are dining with Brother and his wife this evening, then all attending the theater together, Dad's spirit will join us.

Happy birthday, Dad. Thank you for your love.