Sunday, June 17, 2007


Today is Father's Day and we have had a lovely day. Steve and Amanda surprised Doug by flying in this am. We tricked him pretty good. I told him the kids were making him breakfast and he needed to stay in bed till they brought in up. When Amanda and Steve walked in with Bacon and French toast he was truly surprised.


This day started me thinking about my own father. My father was a curious character and often has the role of villian in our family story. Richard Byron Smith, my dad, was an alcoholic who abused his children. Many of the pivotal memories of my childhood center around on his inexcusable behavior while drunk and the total lack of control and disregard he exhibited towards those he loved while in this state.


Tonight, however, I started thinking of some of the gifts my father gave me. First and foremost, my dad was a dreamer. I remember the many ideas he had for inventions. A few of the ideas were pretty amazing and had alcohol and general craziness not been such a driver in his life, he could have had a number of patents and likely been a wealthy man. He was intensely creative and saw things as raw materials not as what someone told them they were. He owned his own business maintaining small parking lots. If he needed a part to make a vehicle work and it didn't exist he would create his own solution. I remember he talked about the need for reflective materials on freeway lanes long before the bumps on the freeway ever existed. I think he was happiest when we was figuring out a way to make something work. I have always thought my brother Steve was incredibly mechanical like Dad. I have respect for Dad's creativity and share a certain energy in working with my hands to create things.


My dad was very intelligent. He loved words and language. He loved classical music and musicals. I love many of the same things.


He believed I was smart. When I tested in the gifted class in Elementary School, then called Mentally Gifted Minors, (I just had a good laugh with my kids about the name of the program.)He was so proud. He used to buy used "It Pays to Increase Your Word Power" workbooks and have me work through them. At the time, it seemed crazy, other kids in the neighborhood were not expected to endure this type of "homeschooling." As a result, I have never felt inadequate with issues of intelligent or learning new things, I give my dad partial credit for this.


Dick Smith was a hard working man. Towards the end of his life, he suffered with Lupus and cirrhosis of the liver. There were days when he was taking 25-30 aspirin a day. He had open sores on his legs that would never heal. Yet, I remember that he went to work most days with that pain to a job that was dirty, mundane and required significant physical labor. It would have been easy for him to give up, make excuses and stay in bed. I respect that he chose to fulfill his responsibilities.


A little crazy in the application but I remember Dad put a picture of a starving child on the back of my door. He wanted me to be aware that not all children had food to eat. He wanted his children to learn gratitude. Amazing to me that one of the things that challenge me with my children is their lack of gratitude.


Dad loved Disneyland. We share that. To this day, when I enter Main Street with my family, I feel a thrill. Kinda strange but Dad looked a little like Walt Disney. Bright blue eyes, a similar hairline and mustache.


I am reminded today thinking about my dad that we all have a great propensity for good. And I too can say as Nephi, I, Stacey, having been born of (sometimes) goodly parents and be grateful for the gift of life and life experience. It also makes me so grateful for the father of my children.
Enough for now...love to all.

2 comments:

Reva Petersen said...

Stacey,
I have had an empathy for dad that stretches back 20 years. I don't condone his poor choices or behavior. But I have experienced the demons that bring one to the brink of those choices, and realize it is an incredibly desolate place to be. Who knows what a wonderful man he would have been if only. . . .

My fondest memory is one you mentioned, and one I suspect you share, and that is his love of words. He cradled them as he handed them to us with pennies as as the prize. It was one of the few times there was a treat, not a belt. There were never rages, only words that I would learn, then recognize in a new book and already know! What a smarty I was!

Happy Father's Day Dad.

carrie pearson said...

I am impressed...