WHAT IS A MAN?: REMEMBERING MY FATHER

Here’s how this week’s arts and culture piece begins:

Culturally we’ve been pondering the question: What is a woman? Maybe it’s time to ask: What is a man?

My father — a bricklayer with eight kids — saw the world as a place of mystery and beauty, but that things could go so consistently, abysmally, wrong gnawed at him.

“Doesn’t that get my goat!” he’d rail in the parking lots of grocery stores, spotting a cart left by a careless shopper. “If that thing ever got rolling, it could pick up momentum, barrel right into a 3- or 4-year-old kid…” He shook his head, leaving us to imagine the twitching limbs, the tiny skull bleeding onto the asphalt.

What he was really thinking, I knew, was that the kid would have to be brought to the doctor — and doctors cost money.

READ THE WHOLE PIECE HERE.

10 Replies to “WHAT IS A MAN?: REMEMBERING MY FATHER”

  1. Beautiful! Thank you Heather!

  2. This is beautiful, and what wonderful pictures!

  3. Michael Demers says: Reply

    No question about it, your father was a real man.

  4. The two emphasis’ on him not yelling, oh how I wish I had that experience!

  5. The two emphasis’ on him not yelling! I only wish I had a similar experience, thank you for sharing yours.

  6. Melanie Poser says: Reply

    Wonderful Heather, so human. Wish I had memories like that.

  7. Anonymous says: Reply

    A familiar scene…..I am the 8th of 10 children growing up in the 60’s/70’s. I can’t imagine the stress my parents had feeding and caring for all of us and sending us to Catholic schools. We would see my Dad’s stress from time to time, sort of how you described your Dad. We didn’t have much materially but the love of family, the sacrifices my parents made are just incredible. Grateful for the lessons learned. Thank you for this beautiful picture of your Dad. Heather.

  8. HEATHER KING says: Reply

    Thank you all so much and I’m glad the piece landed as I hoped it would…all of us kids, now in our fifties, sixties, and even seventies still tell Dad stories, still marvel at his story-telling ability, still scratch our heads and ask, “How did he do it?” (The same of course goes for my sainted mother). We’re all pretty funny but Dad, we unanimously agree, was the king….

  9. Geraldine Brown Giomblanco says: Reply

    I was the one that spilt the milk almost every night something of that nature took place. My Pops was my anchor, always there, our strength our security. My dad passed just last year and your remembrance touched me beyond measure, thank you Heather. I feel him closer now more than ever.

    1. HEATHER KING says: Reply

      Aw just beautiful, Geri, I’m so glad. Thannks be to God for good fathers…

I WELCOME YOUR COMMENTS!

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