Friday, 19 June 2015

No Sense, No Feeling



I just spent a few minutes sitting out in the bright morning sun, enjoying my first coffee of the day. I like to listen to the sounds of the neighbourhood, the birds, and the people. For some its work related, as repairs continue across the street, and for others it’s ‘across the back fence’ chatter.

I noticed when I got out of the shower this morning that I had a number of bruises. One I know I got when I miss stepped and banged my knee on the wooden bed frame, the other I have no idea.

It’s a family thing, passed down from father to daughter, and probably to son, this unknown origin of pain, bruises and sometimes blood. My Dad was famous for it.

I remember he came in the house one day and had blood dripping down his face from a cut on his head. When Mom commented on it, he had no idea he was bleeding, but apparently he’d hit his head on something. I’m thinking it was the garage door, but I could be wrong.

I can understand that he might have been oblivious to an injury; the man had an incredibly high tolerance for pain. He told me he had had his tonsils out, at home, with no anesthesia. He once played football with a dislocated shoulder. He didn’t have freezing with dental work.

There were two shoe related stories. In one he had bought a new pair of shoes but found one was not very comfortable, the fit a bit too tight. On further investigation, he had not removed the paper wad in the toe of the shoe.

There’s another story, which my brother knows better, but I’ll try and get it right. I think father and son were going golfing, and the Dad was limping, complaining of his shoe hurting. On investigation he found he played with a golfer’s tee in his shoe, where it had fallen from his pocket or bag.


Dad, Dad, Dad, so many stories. Thinking of you this week, Happy Birthday and a Happy Father’s Day, love you and miss you always.

2 comments:

blogger's Brother said...

It wasn't a golf tee, but rather the flat wrench used to remove or tighten the cleats on his golf shoes. The other one was he played a round of golf with the plastic feather from one of my darts. The dart board was in the garage and his shoes were underneath the board on the floor.

I had a very "Dad" moment as I prepared to go to the funeral home for the visitation hours after dad died. I went to the mall to buy a pair of shoes as I didn't have a nice pair. Bought the shoes and returned home to shower and get dressed. As I went to put the second shoe on there was something wrong. Turns out it was a plastic shoe horn from the store. Since I actually noticed it, right away, I guess it really wasn't a "Dad" moment after all.

Deborah Lean said...

I knew whatever was in the shoe was golf related, didn't think a tee was right.

Never fear, you've had many "Dad" moments, like father, like son.