Tag Archives: growing up

Father Dearest

dad 2


My Father was a man who guided us and who loved us.  He  was our dad, our mentor, and our friend. A man who was not so bad for an old guy!


Lectures my father gave …

My father always has been and always will be considered a man of honour, integrity and stature.  He was also human.  He was a dad and subject to all the idiosyncrasies of that idyllic state.  In simplest terms, he ain’t perfect.  Of course growing up I just assumed he was perfect.  Aren’t all fathers?  We used to tease my Dad about his lectures.  You know all the usual ones that fathers give their children – drive from point a to point b, no ‘parking’,  look both ways before you date.  As his children we would roll our eyes and say “lecture 37” or “lecture 210”.  And we would all laugh.  But we didn’t disobey, or at least not openly.  My Father laid down the law in our family. Of course laws were meant to be broken, or at least bent a little.  I read that somewhere.

Father’s are people too!

Perhaps the first time I realized my father was human was the time I cut my finger.  It was not a bad cut, really, but it bled a lot.  By the time I made it to my father (my mother was out of the house) it looked as if I had amputated the finger, and done a really bad job of it.  It was not a pretty sight!  Dad didn’t panic, he just looked scared.  I didn’t appreciate how it looked at the time, I was used to it, I was a kid. He took my hand and placed it under the kitchen tap.  Once the blood was gone, he couldn’t find the cut.  I thought everything was status quo, but he would not let me go out and play again.  I had to wait for my mother to come home.  I was probably ten years old.

Then there was the time I wanted to go horseback riding with a friend.  I had the money and a ride.  It was just a matter of form to ask permission. My mother always said yes.  Mom wasn’t home.  Dad said no. No reason either.  It wasn’t until many years later that I understood these two episodes.  My father could not bear to face my mother if anything had happened to me.  I guess it is just a dad thing.

The dog made me do it

My father was a distinguished looking man but appearances can be deceiving. Take the yearly trial of showing a beautiful but willful dog how to use the dog door. My father had installed a ‘dog door’ in the screen door off the kitchen to make it easier for Samantha (a brindle boxer) to come in and out at her leisure.  In theory, as in practice, it was a wonderful idea. Of course, it was not used in the winter time. It would mean leaving the glass door open and that would be too cold. So every spring Samantha was once again offered the opportunity to use her door.  Here comes the good part.  I don’t know if she really did have a fear about using the door for the first time every year or she just enjoyed the image of my very distinguished father on his hands and knees crawling through that door, several times. I must admit my mother and I always made sure we were nearby. I wonder why I never took a picture?


Thanks dad, we love you.


Who am I?

 woman hat

When I was a child I knew exactly who I was.  Some days I was a damsel in distress waiting for her knight in shining armour.  Some days I was a brave explorer saving endangered animals from extinction.  Some days I was Superwoman and I was going to save the world.  And then I grew up.

 At High School and then University I had responsibilities to attend my classes..  When I got a job I had a responsibility to the workplace and my coworkers.  I had friends that I socialized with.  I had family that I loved.  Later I had an apartment that I had a responsibility for, and then pets.  Superwoman was gone and the brave explorer explored no more.  I had grown up.

 The years progressed and I was diagnosed with a disease that changed my life.  In some ways it allowed me to get back in touch with the child I once was.  My responsibilities changed.  My priorities changed.  And in time my body changed.  Move ahead a few decades.  My biggest responsibility now is to me.  And what does that make me?  It makes me human.

 As our species has evolved over the millennium, so too have individuals, of course over a much shorter period of time.  We have to evolve to fit into society.  Some of the dreams we had as children cannot transition into adulthood.  Some of the dreams we had as children morph into something comparable but not exact.  Adulthood really does take a toll on our childhood dreams!  But still sometimes what we’ve dreamt of as a child does come to fruition.  There are brave explorers out in the wilds of unexplored lands working to save the endangered species of our world.  I’m not one of.  There are Supermen and Superwomen out lobbying for the disenfranchised and the needy.  I’m not one of them.  There are women who play the game of damsel in distress to attract a man they believed to be their knight in shining armour.  I’m not one of them.

What I am is myself.  I have come to terms with my perceived inabilities.  In fact I embrace my disability.  I have multiple sclerosis.  It does not have me.  I have a life and I will continue to live it to the fullest whether it wants me to or not.  Do I make concessions to fatigue and other symptoms of this disease?  Yes.  I am no different than anyone without multiple sclerosis.  When they get tired, they rest.  When I get tired, wait for it, I rest.  We all have issues we need to deal with whether you have a disease or not.  And I have made the choice to live and to have a life of my own.  That’s who I am.