Break Time and Some Thoughts about My Father

It was time. i just kept refusing to admit it.

Tomorrow will be the half-way point of my writer’s sojourn to somewhere. My plan was to gut it out for the duration. But the plan was not completely realistic. It’s pretty tough for a hard-living old fart to change his ways overnight.

But i kept at it for half of the journey to somewhere, and i actually feel like i just might be halfway to somewhere. i just don’t know yet where somewhere actually is.

Then i had a message exchange with Blythe. That’s enough to make me rethink just about anything. From my request, she forwarded me a photo and several more.

And i had promised myself to take enough of a break to honor my father on Father’s Day. i don’t really need any acknowledgement, but i did want to honor him and respond favorably when others honored their fathers.

Finally after another five mile power walk up the mountain and back — okay, okay, it ain’t really a mountain, just a fairly steep grade up to a tableland at about 7500 feet of elevation; but that’s another story — i realized i was fine with my routine of rigor but i needed a break. So i drove down to the closest grocery and got an off the shelf pizza and a bottle of decent red wine. i got the pizza because i was damn tired of preparing my own meals. They meet the basic needs but they are so miserable compared to Maureen’s fare. i got the wine, not because it was alcoholic but because my taste for liquids is narrow and i also have gotten damn tired of coffee, water, Pelligrino (even with lime), and the Jewell version of an Arnold Palmer.

So tomorrow is Father’s Day. Big Deal. i don’t need a tie. But i do need to talk about, as i once called him in a tribute, an incredible man. He was.

Those photos Blythe sent me? They were of my father with Sam (and one with my mother and Blythe) from a 2010 — see Blythe, i really do know what year it was even though i was originally a decade off — visit she and Sam made to my parent’s home in Lebanon, Tennessee.

Most of these are like many photos family members took with Grandpa. His children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren, and even children who, just because they are children, have similar poses in photographs. But these are mine and special:

Four generations of Jewell, minus one who always has wished he had been there.
i love this because Grandpa had such a low opinion of his reading when he really was a good reader. Here he is reading with Sam, something i’m sure he would have done with all of his children, grandchildren, and in fact any child who crossed his path and the opportunity had arose.
About every person under 18 and one over that: me when i was about fifty, sat with him in his recliner and watched TV. A precious memory for all of us.

 

You didn’t get too many action shots of Grandpa, but loving giving his grandson a boost produced a happy countenance that was so him. So Jimmy Jewell, aka Grandpa.

Then there is the coup de gras:

This is an 96-year old man taking his four-year old great grandson for a walk. They are mine. i am the missing link here. But it speaks volumes, i think, about a man and his relationship with all children.  i must confess i cannot look at this photo with crying a bit. In joy, happiness that it happened. That Sam James Jewell Gander had some precious moments with one of the most magnificent fathers, grandfathers, and lover of children the world has ever known.

Happy Father’s Day.

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