The things my father taught me

 

Today is sort of an anniversary. 31 years ago, February 1, 1983, my father passed away. He was 83 years old. A nice ripe age, but as I get older it doesn’t seem that old anymore. People live much longer these days. To be 100 years old isn’t such a big deal any longer.

As I reflect and remember my dad, I have certain regrets. I never told him that I loved him. He never told me he loved me. It wasn’t done in those days when I grew up. I know he loved me; he never said so in words but by the little things he did. He gave me his best pocket knife. I was probably around ten years old. He gave me the one with the two blades, a large one and a small one. It also has a little file. The knife he kept for himself had a broken small blade. I still have that knife and I cherish it. In fact, I also have the one with the broken small blade.

I grew up after WW2. My parents lost everything they had in the war. Opportunities for advancement were non-existent where we lived. We didn’t have much. It was tough to feed a family, but we survived. I heard my dad say once, “If I have to go naked, that’s okay, but my children will never go hungry.” He couldn’t always keep his promise, but we didn’t starve.

My dad never played with me, but he took me along when he went digging peat moss to make bricks to be used in the stove for cooking and heating. He stacked up the bricks in a pyramid to let them dry. Once they were dry he picked them up with his bicycle and brought them home.

I enjoyed those trips. He erected a small tent for me where I would be protected from the sun and he told me to be careful and not wander away. I explored the area looking for sticklebacks and frogs. At lunchtime we ate sandwiches, and they always tasted delicious. Those are the memories I treasure, because they are special to me.

He taught me how to make a knot. He called it the ‘Russian Whip knot’. Actually, it is known under the name ‘Clove Hitch’, and not the most secure knot to use, but it is functional and easy. I still use it to this day.

He had many sayings, but one of my favorites was (translated): The way you call into a forest that’s the way the echo comes back. You could use ‘canyon’ instead of ‘forest’ to make more sense, but basically it means to gain love and respect you have to show love and respect. That phrase stuck with me and I have tried to live by his teaching.

He was strict and he spanked us when we did something wrong. We always deserved it. He never lashed out in anger, never beat us to inflict pain. He used a belt on our butts. It hurt but did no damage. It didn’t damage our ‘tender’ psyche either. He taught me to respect people and things and to appreciate what I have. He always cleaned and polished our shoes. It was important to him. “You judge a person by his shoes,” he used to say.

There doesn’t seem to be much of respect for anything around these days. There is this false idea that you’re not supposed to punish your children. You might just curb their natural development. Teachers aren’t allowed to teach discipline for fear of being sued by these ill-advised parents.

So many young people have no respect for their elders and the law. And that is directly the fault of their parents and our educational system, and those who push their views on the general populace. And it is the fault of the government.

A few years ago we had problems on the beach where we had our cottage with young people behaving unruly, getting drunk and throwing empty glass bottles into the water. Somebody called the RCMP. One of the officers was a bit overweight. Those young punks showed no respect at all. Instead they called him a ‘fat pig’ and other nice names. And there was nothing he could do about it. That would never have happened when I was young and where I grew up. Nobody would have dared to talk to an officer of the law in such a way. They would have thrown the book at a punk like that.

But that is today’s youth. No respect. I’m not saying all are like that. There are still plenty of young people who are smart enough to realize that rude behavior and disrespect is wrong and doesn’t get them far in life. As I said, much of the blame can be put on the parents. First of all they have to lead by being a good example. Unfortunately, many parents don’t behave any differently. How can you teach manners to a child if you don’t have any yourself?

I wouldn’t let my kid sit in a restaurant with his hoody pulled over his head, or wearing a baseball cap. Never mind having the shield facing sideways or toward the back. And I would not condone having their arms and neck disfigured with ugly tattoos or having a son of mine wearing rings in his ears, lips, or nose. Only a bull gets a ring in his nose.

I could go on, but I realize I’m ranting again. This was just supposed to be about remembering my dad. But in a way it is. Because some of what the taught me shaped my future and my outlook on life, and looking back, he did okay. I did okay. My children and my grandchildren will be doing okay also, because I tried to pass on what my father taught me.

I love you, Dad.