My dad who is now a Father...

During this time of season I always wish that we could change our headlights green so that as you are driving down the freeway the road before you and behind you would flow green and red. Seems appropriate to me, but not at all useful when driving since green doesn't show up so well. I guess it's just a dream of mine. I guess that's the random thought for the month...as if I only have one random thought a month. I am total randomness and I embrace it. For better or worse, it is what it is.

I wanted to talk a little today about my father, for whom I am very happy to have a relationship with in my adult years. My father had a tough life early on, his dad wasn't so nice to him and not the best of influences regarding parental characteristics. I never knew my fathers dad, he had a heart attack before I was born but I've seen his pictures and my father looks just like him and for awhile they were a lot alike. But my father has overcome those aspects of behavior and is a very different man now. And to be honest, I'm sure my changed behavior as an adult plays a role as well. My memories of my father are varied, some good and some bad...some that fall in between. I won't be discussing the bad memories, because I have forgiven him of those and they no longer have any meaning in my life. While they have played a part in the creation of Debra they hold no significance now, and I believe they have made me a better person...and if I could go back and do it again...I wouldn't do anything differently.

I was a pretty sickly kid growing up, in and out of doctors office's, visits to the hospital and the fact that I am alive now is a miracle, between jumping out of trees, playing almost daily in a junk yard pit and my varied illness. It was hard to spend time with my father because he worked the graveyard shift at the mine, he was an amazing mechanic and worked hard to pay the bills, mother worked hard as well and as a child I wanted for nothing. I had an amazing childhood, yes there were bad times but like I said, I wouldn't change it now. Whenever I get a really bad stomach ache at night, I think of my father...because he would be awake when the rest of the world was asleep and when home he would let me climb onto his lap and lay against his chest. Hearing his heart beat soothed me and I would either fall asleep or my stomach would stop hurting and I would go back to bed.

A friend of mine once asked me what was the first thing I thought of when asked about my father, I simply said "fish." I then elaborated and explained that my earliest memories usually are of dad teaching me how to fish. Memories are also strong regarding camping, being taught how to change a tire or the oil in a car. We went camping and canoeing often, would cook the fish with in minutes of catching them...simply amazing food. He taught me a lot about so many things...and they all pretty much amount to self efficiency. Whether it be planting the families garden, building a fort in the back yard, taking care of the cars/ATV's, catching our own food, chopping our own firewood, learning how to canoe or riding a motorcycle, in fact, as a child I spent a lot of time driving (or so I thought). I was either riding in front of him on the motorcycle with my little hands on the handle bars or sitting on his lap with my hands on the wheel driving down the road. He took care of the gas and brake, all I had to do was steer. I have always and continue to feel very safe riding with my father on his motorcycle and I can't wait until I can own one myself. To this day, whenever I am able to see him, I make sure he takes me on a ride.

When I was 5ish, I was learning how to ride my bicycle...still had the training wheels on and heading home from hanging out with friends down the block and a doberman pincher came out and was walking along side me as I rode down the street. He was getting so close to my leg and I was so scared that I put my left leg on the right side of the bike but that only slowed me down. I switched my left leg back to hurry my progress and he took a bite out of leg. I was on the ground screaming for my father and he came running out to rescue me. He picked me up and I knew I was safe. But I hated the hospital visit. That was in Boise, once we moved to Tenino there was another time that my dad saved me. We were in the back of our yard getting the fence ready for my cow to have a pen and my shovel dug into a hornets nest in the ground but I didn't know it until I had been stung in the leg and again started screaming. The hornet kept stinging me so dad, used the shovel to get him off my leg but the stinger was still there. The memory has less to do with the hornet and more to do with how quickly my father was in rescuing me from harm. He picked me up and ran me into the house where I would be safe. As for my cow, Pinky, I raised him and then it was time for him to go to a vacation type place where he would be happy and get to play with other cows...or so I thought. Turns out we ate him...but I didn't know it at the time and I am very grateful that he let me believe Pinky was playing and happy elsewhere.

Now as an adult our relationship has changed significantly, I don't so much need him to rescue me anymore, though there are times when people treat me badly that I wish I could ask my daddy to handle it. I am now the only one of his children who is remotely in his life, the others have abandon him because of the man he once was, and it is horribly unfortunate that they can't learn to forgive. My father is not that man anymore and it would be great if they could love and embrace him, but I don't even know them anymore. The only one we were close to, Jim, was killed in a car accident when I was a senior in high school. I regret not being more gentle with father when he called to tell me, I was too selfish in my grief to even realize or understand the amount of pain he must have gone through losing his only son he was closest to. And for that I am sorry.

Speaking of being sorry, when my parents were going through their divorce I was given the choice of either keeping his last name, Morris or changing it to Carlsen, my mothers last name. My choice was to make the change to Carlsen and I did it with out any consideration of how it would make him feel. I was only 11 or 12 then but now, I realize how horrible a feeling that must have given him to have his child abandon his last name. And each time I write him now I try to not sign my last name out of respect for his feelings.

I could go on and on, but I won't. I wanted to make sure that those who know me or read this blog have a clear understanding of my father, of our relationship now, mostly to know that I love my father and he is an amazing man who has overcome a lot in his life. I am grateful for his protection and his love...and of course his friendship. My life would be horribly incomplete if he weren't in it even though he now lives in Montana. I take what I can get.

Thank you dad for becoming a father, for loving me, for rescuing me, for all that you do. I love you very much.