So much of what I am comes from where I grew up and how I was raised. It becomes more and more evident every day, really. On today, Father’s Day, it seemed appropriate to talk briefly about Papa, who gave me so much of what makes me who I am.
I like to think the spark of laughter and good humor–and the desire to make others laugh is as present in me as it was in my father. I can only hope, as he was such a jokester.
The other day, though, I was with my friend Ben having a drink and enjoying stories together, both funny and serious. We were joking about photography and I was relaying my story of going down into a coal mine to take photos for American Mining Insurance Company. Going into an underground coal mine is pretty intimidating to begin with. Going in with a bulky camera on top of the hard hat, overalls, rubber boots and big, heavy belt complete with large battery pack that powers your head lamp along with something that provides air in case of a cave-in–now that’s tough. Did I mention cave-in?
Anyway, I was so off-put about going underground (I wasn’t expecting to be allowed to carry my camera into the mine anyway as this isn’t typically something that they allow), that I managed to get only about 3 photos. My camera flash wasn’t fully charged and I couldn’t figure out just what to do about it. (I’ll do better if I get to go again.) One photo I took managed to capture several people’s feet–there were vehicles moving by underground, the ceiling was less than 6 feet high, there was dust everywhere, the air was thick and it was very intimidating so I’m impressed I even got that shot.
Back to the story at hand….
I was telling my friend Ben about this exciting event. And nothing felt better than hearing him laugh and spew his drink across the room. I remembered the many times when Papa would have the whole room laughing.
No matter what, Papa worked to make people laugh and he kept that sense of humor for pretty much his whole life. I can’t imagine how he did it. Growing up in the Great Depression. Going through the Pacific theater in World War II. Having 6 children (oh my God!)–including one that came WELL AFTER he had turned 40.
Still, he managed to enjoy life in a way that few people could. His ability to handle pretty much any situation with a smile, with black medicine (a cream he brought home in bulk from the paper mill where he worked as a mechanic), a band-aid and a pocket knife is legendary. If those wouldn’t solve the situation, some sand paper, some WD40 or some duct tape–only in a real emergency as this couldn’t be reused with ease–surely would. He just never seemed to get terribly rattled about things.
I got, I hope, at least a touch of his laughter, his smile and his humor. I still need to work on not getting rattled by things. Sadly, I did not get his ability to fix things. If it is broken, my only remedy is to take it to the basement–where it can live forever in a broken state!
Here’s to you Papa.
