Monday, December 19, 2011

My Father's Jewels

I've been battling my cat today for the right to sit at my computer chair.   I think it has something to do heat vent that blows straight from the wall onto the chair.   It may also have to do with her belief that she owns us.   Maybe she does.   I have to agree with her that warm heat blowing on old bones does feel good.  
If our electric bill is any indication, this little house under the willow tree lavishly heats the outdoors, making me miss our modern house with the heat pump.   I grew up in an old Victorian house, a house big enough to house us all but too big to heat with one oil stove.  The winter often found us kids abandoning our rooms upstairs in order to sleep on the floor near the stove.  There were nights, however, when I wanted to enjoy a room and a bed to myself, and I'd sleep upstairs burrowed under blankets borrowed from the other beds. Family togetherness and and individual fortitude can be fostered in small hardships.  Gem stones have to be cut and polished before becoming jewels.

Dad,  I remember when you got so tired of fixing that upstairs bathroom door that suffered mistreatment  too often by your mixed blessings that you left the door as it was, off the hinges.  When we wanted privacy we had to prop the door over the opening.   A whole new set of bathroom etiquette was observed until you deemed us fit enough for the privilege of a door that closed.  Weariness was often the inspiration for your innovative parenting.   I have been trying to follow your example as I parent your grandson.   Thanks, Dad!

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