Should I call my Dad?

This week is spring break here in our county and there is no school. My youngest will be home when she feels like it for me to mother and friends will be visiting from Indiana. I have decided to take a few days off from blogging and since no one has stepped up to "guest" blog I shall post old entries from my very first blog that I have recently discovered while searching for something else. I've also chosen to post entries that had to do with my father. Today is the anniversary of his death and so I thought it appropriate to post old entries that had to do with him. See you next week!

October 10, 2004

There is a new car commercial on television. In it a pregnant woman has just come home with a new baby seat for the car. Her husband tries to put the seat inside their little two -seater, but he just can't seem to get it to fit. He tries and tries, turning the car seat in different directions, adjusting the front seat so that any passenger will be smashed against the windshield. The entire time his pregnant wife is offering advice and opinions until finally she asks, "Should I call my father?"

 I loved it the first time I heard it because in this world there are girls who consider their fathers the end all to the be all. I was one of those girls. I knew, without a doubt, that my father could solve any problem I might run into. He fixed everything from our kitchen appliances to our washer and dryer. He fixed our toys when we were young and our cars when we were teenagers. He kept my car washed, gassed, and tuned. He knew how to repair anything and he knew what tools he needed to do just that and what type of goop he needed to hold something in place.

Watching him work was always fun. My job was either to read the instructions or hold the treble light in place so he could see in the dark. He would be chomping on his cigar, cursing, making jokes, and by golly getting the job done. There wasn't anything my father couldn't do. I believed that and getting married didn't change that belief. I never once thought of giving up on dear, old Dad just because I had a man around. It wasn't anything against my husband who is also a fix-it man himself, but there were many times he too needed my dad's help on a project. I just truly believed the man had all of the answers and was able to do everything. Just like the girl in the commercial believed. "Should I call my father?"

A week before my dad died of a heart attack I called him to ask him what to do about our clogged kitchen sink. I did this on the sly. My husband had attempted several times to fix the problem and no matter what he did the sink just kept stopping up. Like the girl in the commercial I suggested calling my father for the answer. My husband told me not to bother the man with mundane problems and kept right on trying to fix the problem...to no avail. The next day while he was off to work and I was left with still a clogged sink in my kitchen I called my dad.

He was happy to help. He told me what anti-clogging agent I was to purchase. He told me exactly what to do with the product. He told me that if that didn't work I was to call the plumber, and then he proceeded to tell me what to tell the plumber and what the plumber should do to fix the problem. It was the last oral communication I had with my father. It was also the last thing he fixed for me. The anti-clogging agent and instructions I followed to a T fixed our clogged sink.

Yes, girl in the commercial. Call your Dad!