My Superhero, My Dad

There was a time in my life when my dad was a chainsaw wielding axeman with a beard of nails and fists of steel. He was my rock, my Paul Bunyan superhero. He could build a whole house, he could tell the most amazing stories and he could fix anything! He was the strongest man on earth and nothing could break him.

Yet this out-sized superman was the same one who would put me in his lap and let me "drive" his pickup truck down the dusty road to our house. His heart was not so strong that it wouldn't break when, as a young boy, I sobbed my eyes out as he left for a Scout meeting without me. I watched him drive away, perched in our upstairs window only to see him return a few minutes later. As I quickly dried my tears and ran to him and asked what he had forgotten, my world was instantly repaired when he said so simply, "You!".

As I grew, I challenged his authority, but never did I forget that this was the man who could thump me if he needed to, but never did. As I worked by his side each summer, striving to be as fast and strong as he was, I began to understand the lengths a man should go to keep his family fed and safe.

It was his folksy, practical fireside wisdom that has sustained me in difficult moments and guided this boy through the labyrinth of life. His love of nature and the outdoors was distilled and refined and passed down a generation, so that the awe of a well-formed creation would not be lost.

Suddenly, I find myself with a little chrysalis, a tiny man-in-the-making, who looks to his dad like I did so long ago, with wondering eyes, awestruck by his dad's sheer awesomeness. I wonder how to measure up to those who have left their legacy before me. How will I wield my axe and use my super strength and laser vision? I can but hope to pass on a little of what came to me by way of the generations of supermen before me: my great-grandfather the pioneer, my grandfather the orchardist, the rough (but tender) chainsaw man who is MY DAD.

Here's hoping all fathers can live up to their potential.

I love you, Dad!

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Kaija, Our Little Live Wire

Sunday afternoons are some of the most peaceful times around the Young house. After lunch, EVERYONE takes a nap. It's just accepted that it will be quiet. Sometimes, we get a few minutes, and on those special days, we get a couple hours.

Well, we may need to learn to enjoy those longer naps days a little less, it seems. My little Kaija, after having such a good sleep during the midday, does not appear to be ready for sleep when bedtime rolls around.

I had to work, and so after putting the children to bed, spent the evening toiling away on my laptop, while Kerri spent her evening sewing upstairs (she's so crafty). I kept hearing my Kaija talking her mama's ear off, and it was obvious she would not be ready for bed anytime soon. I could hear her yammering about her brother and sister and about the things she likes.

She really should have been in bed, but as the middle child, she so often gets a short shrift when it comes to time with her parents. So we are somewhat indulgent in the rare moments when she stays up to talk. Finally, around midnight, Kerri decides to go to bed. She sent our little princess off to the sack, or so she thought.

I suddenly hear the pitter-patter of little feet. Soon, up bobs the smiling face of my three-year old girl. She asks what I'm doing. "Working.", I say. She notices my empty glass of water and asks, "Did you drink all your water?" and then "Can I get you some more?" I am amused at her serving nature, and respond in the affirmative. I nearly rolled off my chair laughing when she calls from the kitchen "Do you want big ice cubes or little ones?" (Referring to our crushed ice option on the refridgerator). What service!

I determined that she had probably been sent to bed by her mother, saw my light on and came down, so this was her way of having a reason to stay awake, but it was oh so hilarious to see her notice a need and take care of her dear old dad. What a sweet little angel.

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