Happy Father's Day

I want to say a few things about my dad on Father's Day, much like I did for my mom on Mother's Day.

I never considered myself a "daddy's girl". When other women talk about how they had their dad wrapped around their little finger, this is like a foreign concept to me. Out of my two parents, my dad was always the stricter one, the disciplinarian. He could also have been considered a workaholic during a certain period of my childhood when he was frequently away on business and working what seemed like 12 hour days so there were times when he felt somewhat absent. But perhaps because of this he was also sure to make quality time for his family and we always had a lot of fun together. In fact, just like my mom was the reason we did creative stuff like make jewelry out of puzzle pieces, my dad was the reason we did stuff like buy a go-kart and drive it around his office parking lot after hours. Just like my mom, my dad never does things by halves. Some of my favorite family memories are a result my dad throwing himself into his hobbies and interests, such as when he got his pilot's license and leased a private plane. For a time, it felt like every weekend we would go for a leisurely fly in the Cessna, and perhaps practice some touch-and-go's (landing and quickly taking off again), sometimes all four of us, sometimes just me and my dad. Apparently, I used to critique and rate my dad's landings and much to my dad's amusement, I could be quite harsh on a particularly bumpy landing!

My dad and me.

One of the activities that I never took to was camping. Both my parents have always been the outdoorsy type but I obviously didn't inherit this from them. After taking me camping for the first time, my dad asked me what I thought of it and I firmly gave him a negative response, which amused him because I apparently reminded him of his sister. He still marvels that someone so young could have been so decisive and felt so strongly about camping.

We also played a lot of card and board games as a family but the two which are sentimental to me and my dad were Uno and Backgammon. Uno, for some reason, became a never ending game for me and my dad. We would play round after round, a tablet of scores getting longer and longer, keeping tabs so we could leave it for days and return to it whenever we could. We didn't play Backgammon very often and to be honest, I'm not even entirely sure I remember how to play it. But I remember my dad teaching me how to play it and I think the reason that sticks out in my memory is because it was the first "grown up" game I learned (as opposed to kiddie games like Connect-Four) and yet my dad never second guessed that I would be able to understand it.

That's how I always remember my dad from my childhood, he was always encouraging me to pursue the things the interested me, regardless of whether I was good at it or not. I had always had an interest in art but sadly, I never developed a talent for it. However, that didn't stop my dad from taking me to art museums, hanging Monet posters on my wall, introducing me to pastels, buying me a huge art supply box and filling it with colored pencils, brushes and paints, etc. I may have never become a painter but as I got older, my interest in art developed into an interest in photography, a medium that I did seem to have an aptitude for, and thanks again to my dad's encouragement, I am now a professional photographer. Both my parents have always been incredibly supportive but unsurprisingly (with all his hobbies over the years) my dad had a pre-existing interest in photography and was more than willing to hand over all his photography equipment for my use.

Life with my dad was also fun because of his great sense of humor. It may come as a surprise to him that I have fond memories of our family dinners, sitting around the table as my dad told us jokes or funny stories from his past. I say it may come as a surprise to him because as a child, I was a "picky eater" and the dinner table often became a battlefield, the scene of a battle of wills. So it's a true testament to his sense of humor that I have good memories at the dinner table.

He was also always good-natured about an on-going prank that I used to pull on him. This is unusual because I'm not normally a big fan of pranks but in fairness, my dad would pull the same prank on me in return. I don't know how it got started but it became a game of stealth, attempting to slap a sticker (usually from a banana or apple) on the other's back without them noticing. I think my mom typically intervened before either one of us went off to work or school with a sticker on our back, which would have been like a step away from a "kick me" sign. However, one day when I was obviously getting a little older and a little more deceptive, I managed to elude both of them. Apparently my dad got half way through the day before someone at work asked him "Why do you have a Dole sticker on your back?" But he came home in smiles, looking almost proud of me that I had bested both him and my mom.

There is so much more I could have written about both my parents, we just did so much together as a family and I have so many good memories; what's amazing is that my dad managed to do so much with us despite how demanding his job was for most of my childhood. He would go on so many business trips that we had a rule - if he was gone for a week or longer, he had to come back with a gift for me and my brother each. And given that many of his trips were to Europe and Asia, that meant we had many exotic gifts brought back from far-flung parts of the world. My favorites were the ones from Asia, particularly the silver jingle bell anklets which I was devastated when I grew out of.

Father's Day has always been rather special as well because it tends to fall on or around my birthday. This is one of the years that it landed on my birthday but sadly, we can't spend this day together like we used to (which was often at the airshow) because I'm living in another country. Hopefully that won't be a problem in the future since my husband and I have plans to move back soon but for now, I want to say thanks, Dad, for all the hard work you did so that our family had the means to do all the fun stuff we did. Thanks for always thinking of us even when we were so far away, for always making the time for us despite how stressed and tired you were from work. Thanks for always supporting my interests and hobbies as much as your own, for never complaining when I was sick and accidentally threw up on you, and for always holding me tightly when mom was digging a splinter out of my foot with a needle. I am so lucky to have both the parents I do.

Happy Mother's Day

I had originally written this for Women's History Month but decided it would be more appropriate for Mother's Day.

I consider my relationship with my mom to be somewhat unique. We have always been close, even through those "difficult teen years" we did not have major difficulties communicating and all my friends were always jealous of my "cool mom". When they said she was cool, it did not mean my mom never disciplined me in attempt to win my friendship, just that she was fun but also understanding, reasonable, patient, and fair. She never took the "because I said so" approach and instead always listened to me and explained things to me. In all my years growing up, all the times I'm sure I tried and tested her patience, I can only ever remember her raising her voice to me once. We were making applesauce and I must have been very young because my role was limited to stirring some cold applesauce that I'm now pretty sure didn't actually need to be stirred. Even so, after a while, my arm got tired so I announced, "I'm done stirring, mommy. Can you do it now?" She was busy at the stove so she told me to just leave the bowl on the counter and she'd get to it in a minute. I obviously decided it couldn't wait so I began pushing the bowl towards her and towards the opposite edge of the counter. She noticed this and warned me to stop or the bowl would fall off the counter but I must have thought there was more room and kept pushing. Next thing I know, there is applesauce all over the floor and anyone who knows anything about the laborious process of making applesauce knows how frustrating it would be to watch all that effort in ruins on the floor. So quite literally, for once in my whole life, she blew her top and began yelling at me. Shocked, I burst into tears and I can't remember if she sent me to my room or I fled there willingly. In either case, it was of mutual consent that I'd go to my room. Don't get me wrong, as soon as the bowl tipped over the edge, I knew I was in trouble. But yelling was not her discipline style and so it alarmed me greatly. Later, after she'd cleaned everything up, she came to my room and this is a testament to her patience and forgiveness when she apologized to me for yelling at me. But she also explained why she lost her temper and reminded me why it was important that I listen to her when she tells me not to do something.

I am certainly not trying to preach about parenting styles. The point is, because of her understanding, patience, and communication, I felt I could talk to my mom about anything - and I attribute this entirely to my mom's doing, I was just along for the ride. Her relationship with her own mother when she was growing up was not as good as ours and so she resolved that when she had kids, she would do everything in her power to make sure it would be different. And my mom never does things by halves.

Mom and me.

I adored (and still do) both my parents but my mom was a stay-at-home mom and therefore my primary care taker growing up. The influences she has had on me are remarkably blatant sometimes. Frequently, my dad will fondly laugh and say to me, "Sometimes, you are so like your mother I can't believe it". Even people who hardly know me, like my mom's coworkers (she is now a nurse), refer to me as "Rachael's mini-me" because not only have I inherited much of her character, I also apparently look exactly like her. I say apparently because this is what everyone says but when my mom and I look at each other, we both agree "I don't see it." I suppose when you know someone so well, no matter how similar they are, you also know and see all the things that make them unique and individual. However, I am flattered when people say I look like my mom since she is one of the most beautiful women I've ever known. Even now that she's in her 50's, she still gets compliments on her appearance - it helps that she has always looked a good 10 years younger than she is. My mom once asked me "Does it bother you when people say you're just like me? You don't feel like you're not an individual, do you?" and I almost laughed because that couldn't be farther from the truth. If I have inherited even half of the charm, rationale, devotion, talent, independence, determination, thoughtfulness, selflessness, forgiveness and understanding that my mom has, I will count myself lucky.

As I said, my mom was a stay-at-home mom for most of my childhood but when I was in high school she went back to school and became a nurse, such is her desire to help and care for others. She had always wanted to be a nurse, from the time she was at least a teenager, I think. But her mother always told her that nursing wasn't an ideal profession for her because she "cared too much" about people. My grandmother was afraid she'd grow too attached to patients and have her heart broken if something tragic happened to them. My grandmother's reasoning stemmed from her own life experiences which I'm sure I'll go into another time but suffice to say for now, she was trying to protect my mom. Fortunately, there are plenty of nursing jobs which don't see life-or-death cases and my mom is now a surgical nurse, mostly doing ENT cases (ears, nose, throat) which are usually routine. But she does see some heartbreaking and inspiring cases when she goes on a two week "surgical mission trip" every year (or nearly every year) - which is basically like Doctor's Without Boarders but specializes in providing surgeries for people in third world countries - typically Peru. The work they do there can be amazing and it changes people's lives. I remember she told me about one case of a child who had been severely burnt by an open cooking fire in the past and the scars were limiting the child's mobility so the surgery helped loosen and reduce the scarring. They also fix a lot of cleft lips and palates. I am so proud of her for being a part of this kind of work and it just shows how incredibly selfless and caring she is.

Even before she became a nurse, as a stay-at-home mom, she was always involved in something. One of her characteristics I definitely did not inherit is her inability to sit still and relax. For as long as I have known her, she has always been on the go, always doing something, even as a stay-at-home mom. She was always involved in or supportive of the activities my brother and I were involved in, she had numerous craft hobbies, she volunteered at places like the school library, she was always donating our old stuff to charity, she even started a part time cleaning business with her best friend. I don't think we would have done half the fun and cool stuff we did as kids if it hadn't been for my mom's energy and enthusiasm; like the time she had us painting and decorating puzzle pieces to make into jewelry and sell at the Children's Arts Festival in State College. Even at the end of the day, when she relaxes in front of the TV, she often folds laundry or knits because she just never sits still.

You would think with this kind of drive, she would also be one of those clean freaks but she frequently quoted her mother's motto which was "if you can write your name in it, it's time to clean". It's a good motto, I think. One day, my brother and I came home from school and my mom was cleaning so we excitedly asked "Who's coming to visit?!" because we typically only did a full house clean when we were having guests stay over. We were very disappointed to learn no one was visiting and I think my mom resolved to start cleaning a little more often from then on. In her defense, my dad is a slob (as most men are), and it must have been difficult cleaning up after him and two kids, even when she did recruit us kids to help and give us chores.

She did apply this drive to her parenting though and was always utterly devoted to her children's happiness, though not to the extent of spoiling us. She was a stickler for certain things and I learned from a very early age never to interrupt her while she was speaking to someone else unless it was an emergency (which was defined by "if someone is hurt"). But when we were sad and upset or having difficulties with something, she would gladly turn the world upside down to make it right if she could. And she always did seem to have the answer to everything (except math problems!) - she could fix anything and always had what I needed. I remember when I got my ears pierced and I was having difficulty sleeping because when I put my head down on the pillow, it hurt my ears. She laid in bed with me for what felt like hours trying to sooth me until I finally fell asleep and when I woke up in the middle of the night, I discovered a very strange looking pillow with a hole in the middle of it which was obviously meant for my ear to go in. It didn't quite work out because it was kind of lumpy but I wondered where such a thing came from and in the morning, I asked my mom if she'd made it, knowing that she sews. She confirmed that she had, in the middle of the night, sewn it for me. I was astonished that she would stay up so late to make something for me right on the spot just because I was experiencing some discomfort or pain. I don't know if I thanked her for it at the time but if not, I will now. Mom, thank you for always being there for me, for always listening to me, for always going so far out of your way to make me happy and to make me feel loved and safe.

And if it hadn't been for my mom, I also probably wouldn't have gotten into genealogy! Even if I had, it wouldn't be near as much fun making discoveries without her to share them with. Like my mom, I don't do things by halves and once I caught the genealogy bug, it was probably only a matter of time before I started blogging about it.