Every week I see my father, usually on Saturdays or possibly a Sunday; whenever both of us are available. We make it a priority to meet at least once a week. This past week I spent the entire day with him instead of the usual few hours.
It was a beautiful time. It had been a long while since I've been able to spend so rich a time with him. I say rich in the sense that the time itself was rich and not the monetary value spent upon it.
My father is a firm believer in having a good time in some way. That is to say, he doesn't believe that people experience pleasure from simply having and spending money. He believes people can enjoy a home cooked meal as much as a seven day cruise navigating the Mediterranean.
Sharing these moments and memories with him are extremely important to me. I have seen many times in my own life sons and fathers with absolutely no connection between each other. Just two men, or two boys, depending on the situation and maturation level, coinciding with one another in an existence that is often in turmoil or simply idling; slowly dying.
I am forever grateful to have the relationship I have with my father because I always learn something from him every time we talk.
• • •
He called upon me as we sat in his house, beginning to prepare dinner. We had brunch at midday and were a bit hungry now that it was getting into the evening hours.
An eternal jester, he always finds a way to weave a humorous joke into his social commentaries. This time he was telling me how much women love a man who could cook.
He showed me how to make tomato salad and how to season lamb kebab.
His lessons are very much patterned in the same way Hemingway wrote; he only tells me 1/8th of what he wants to, allowing me to pry on my own time to find the other 7/8ths of the truth.
I don't consider myself to be all-knowing, but I can pick up on the implicit quite quick. It wasn't about the salad. It wasn't about the seasoning. It was about acquiring necessary abilities and building a foundation upon which I could fall back if need be. It was all about preparation. It is always about preparation.
• • •
I am someone who is eternally happy with what I have. I would like to wear designer clothes, but I am perfectly fine with $10 t-shirts and $15 jeans; I would like to drive a convertible with 300 horsepower, but I am perfectly fine with my 1997 Ford Taurus; I would like to eat filet mignon and caviar, but I'm perfectly fine with the hot plate of food that is available to me that night.
I know there are places where someone would like to wear $10 t-shirts, but can only afford a rag handed down from an older sibling; where they would like to drive a 1997 Ford Taurus, but have only a beat-up Volkswagen Beetle from the 70s that may only take them down the street, should it start up; where they would like to eat a hot plate of something, but have only a handful of leftovers from the week before.
That is why I am always happy and thankful for what I have. No matter how little it may seem to someone, it is always enough, and more, for me.
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