What a good story! It is a picture of a wonderful little boy and a Dad who deep down inside, mostly hidden loved his little boy. That is what I see in the picture. I think many of that generation had trouble showing feelings of love and acceptance because they had to be strong and manly (whatever that means). Keep writing Eddie and keep the picture. I think he did love you deep down!

or…for one day only, he was the perfect dad?

I’m sorry you can’t because if you blow the picture up bigger you can easily see he was smiling-big.. it’s a good picture Eddie, keep it as a good “picture memory”. I have plenty of those of myself as a child and even a lot with my kids. Love you!

I could see it all…the windy road…the ketchup-less meatloaf…the browned end slices…the backyard with the lush green. I could see the chairs in the yard and hear the laughter. you brought this story to life! how sad that not only you, but we all have to imagine what went on between your dad and you.

I love the meatloaf ends too…my fave….and butter mints too…but I like pink…mom always had crystal candy dishes. This is a beautiful piece…and I see your dad’s smile too…I think he was working at it that day,… Love you!!

As I was reading this I thought for that day he was the perfect father. Most times we remember that hard stuff in life as it stays with us longer. We reflect on it and long for it to always be better. Seems like there are more hard times than good in our memory banks. This was another wonderfully told story Eddie and this is twice now in my readings that you’ve offered your father in a favorable light. Perhaps he was trying to be the perfect father but couldn’t figure out how to be and his anger and hatred grew stronger. Sad that he took this route.

I feel that way about my dad. He didn’t get me. I wasn’t my brother who was the perfect child. They’d go off hunting, watched sports and so much more. I’d go off to play music, want to be with my moms friends or off to play with the girls. Deep down I know that I’m not the perfect reflection of what my dad wanted for a son but there is love. He shows it whenever and however he can. It doesn’t show up often but when it does I certainly marinate in that feeling for awhile.

On this day, in this picture your dad was showing you love and you were happily receiving it. Perhaps it was a perfect moment, if only a moment in time.

Thanks Eddie for sharing this story. Sending love to my father right now.

More more more please 🙂

Poignant story. We all grow up with many regrets. Accentuate the positive. Your picture does that. Treasure it. Keep writing; you have such a knack for putting your reader right there!!

I found myself trying to raise my daughter based on how I was raised. If my mother and I clicked on something, I’d try to pass that along to my daughter. I’d never teach my daughter certain things that I didn’t like my mom’s rules on, though. When I became a grandmother and helped watch my granddaughter, I found myself doing those things again. Not based on my mom, this time, but based on things I felt I had shortcomings in and successes in. I know I was hard on my daughter a lot because I wanted what I felt was best for her. I wanted her to succeed and be happy in life and I was trying to do everything humanly possible to get her there.

Since you began sharing your memories with us, I’ve always wondered if your dad was pushing because of something that had been done to him. Maybe he felt that was the way he was raised so you should conform to his mold. On the hand, I wonder if he was pushing an agenda of his own because he didn’t like the way he was raised.

My husband tells me to stop living in the past, a lot. I have painful memories and he says not to dwell on them. I’ve decided that it’s okay for me to remember bad things because they helped make me who I am and I’m a stronger, better person because of them. The bad things were the fire that tempered me and made me stronger. I think that way a lot about you. Although times were very hard, without them, you might not be the sensitive, caring person you are now.

I love stories that make me think and yours always do! Keep writing and know that, even if he didn’t show it most of the time, your dad was probably only doing things he thought would make you his version of a success. Love to you!

Sometimes you are so afraid of fleeting happiness because you know what comes next. I remember one Christmas when I was about 7 at my grandparents, when no one was fighting, no one got punished or hit, and I sat in one of the bedrooms crying. My mom asked what was wrong, and I said, “This Christmas was a good one, and now it’s going to end.” I couldn’t trust that happiness to last, so I mourned it even before it was over. Maybe that’s what you did.

Like you, I remember with fondness the tiny details – the smell of the mothballs in the back bedroom closet, the texture of the different fabrics on the crazy quilt, the way the light scattered after passing through the art glass cigarette lighter on the coffee table. Focusing on those things gave me the foundation for my design work later – and a small escape from the storm around me.

Thank you for this blog. It’s so insightful, and so close to my own experience. I feel like we grew up together.

Shari- What a beautiful clear voice and narrative. I have read your words at least 4 times. Heartbreaking and hold such truth.

I have always been aware of objects, light, detail and agree it’s part artistic study and a way to transport out of painful surroundings. When my beloved Ma-Maw passed away I didn’t think I would make it. She was my light. When I saw her in the funeral home, and she was in my memory the first non-living person I’d ever seen I immediately focused on her suit. It had been her favorite church suit and I can remember studying the color and the way it was buttoned over on one shoulder. Focusing on that button took me far away from the sadness in that room. Only at the very end did I allow myself to see her and let go of her suit.

I’m so touched from your support and am so very grateful!!!

Aaaaww….the ends of plain meatloaf?! Love it! I can’t believe people ruin perfectly good meatloaf with nasty ketchup?! LOL! And the butter mints…my Grandma Cutter ALWAYS had them! Loved how they melt in your mouth!
This story is so powerful, Eddie. I so feel for you….and hate that you can’t remember this one obviously good moment when your Dad maybe forget that that he was intolerant and let himself accept and love you. As I work on my book as a tribute and to the memory of my Momma, I have had a lot of memories come back to me…some good and some not so good…Many that have made some puzzle pieces fit together. The things you don’t see when you are younger and are in the middle of them?! I’m glad you have this picture and I hope it brings you some comfort.
xoxo

We have something else in common. Every Sunday, after the morning service, my Dad and Grandma, who neither ever went to church unless I was in a program, would pick Mom and me up and we would go to my Aunt and Uncle’s about 7 miles from French Lick……we could have even been following each other either there or back. They had cows and bulls, not goats, that me being me, got in trouble with. But that’s a very long story…..I’m sure you can imagine. She to always served meatloaf without ketchup. I did like ketchup on mine so she always had the bottle of ketchup on the table for me. Hers was dry and not moist and good like Mom’s. Instead of a cuckoo clock she had one of those cat clocks that hung on the kitchen wall that wagged it’s tail and eyes went back and forth……ironic, such similarities and bringing back so very many memories.. I, like some of the other people responding, have wondered if he had something happen to him in his childhood that made him treat you the way he did. Maybe you reminded him of himself or someone else for some reason….but probably not since he didn’t treat your brother that way. It will probably never be known, in this life, why he treated you the way he did. The picture is the one and only time I ever remember seeing him smile, I thought it was because I was always with you and he didn’t like me. I never remember him making eye contact with me, but I sure remember the glares he gave you. I thought it was because you were with the other girls and me. Even when I was at your house, we were standing near the drive, and he as coming home from work, he put his hand on the screen door handle and turn and glare at you…not even acting like I was there. I felt “invisible” when I was around him. But I thought it was because I was there. I was around him and you at the same time enough to understand what you are talking about when you tell how he treated you….I just didn’t know it was ALL the time. I had such a good relationship with my Dad that it makes me so sad for you….and him, that you were both deprived of that extra special bond. You wanted and needed it so bad and he didn’t know what he was missing. I LOVE YOU!! XOXO <3 🙂