I have a little round scar on my thigh from when the fire from my father’s cigarette fell off and burned me while we were watching some firemen put out a house trailer fire. The memory of that burn isn’t actually a bad one. I barely can recall the burn itself, but I certainly remember sitting next to him in his old truck, making sure my knees were out of the way when he shifted, and sharing the excitement of watching the firemen at work. It’s an odd thing to think about after all these years, I know. It is a small but indelible mark that reminds me of my dad.
Come to think of it, I have another scar that reminds me of him as well. Also small, this one is just to the left of my shin bone. My dad was no where near when I got that one. Instead, he was sitting by a lake, no doubt another cigarette between his teeth or fingers, staring at the water and waiting for a fish to bite. Me? I was at least a mile away, riding his old Harley Davidson motorcycle. We were camping, just he and me. I was about ten or eleven. I wasn’t riding fast, but I felt like ‘big stuff’ being out on my own. When I hit a deep rut in the two-track road, the bike dumped over, catching me for a moment underneath it and cutting my leg. It wasn’t a horrible gash, though I remember it hurt. The worst part was that I was little enough and the motorcycle heavy enough, that I couldn’t get it stood back up by myself. I tried. And tried. In the end, I had to walk back to camp (on my sore and somewhat bloody leg) and get my dad’s help.
More important than the scar I was left with that day is the mark it and a hundred other marks left on my soul from adventures and misadventures I experienced as a result of my dad. I learned to be intrepid because he didn’t tell me not to be. I learned to be strong because he took it for granted that I was. I became capable and responsible because that’s what he expected.
My dad passed away twenty-five years ago today. That’s a long time to not hear his voice or his laugh. But. It isn’t so long that I don’t remember and cherish them, and so much more.
