Mementos of Dad

When Mom was here recently, I told her that I was a little sad that I got no memento when Dad died. My brother, his only son, naturally got the family treasures, but I was left with nothing tangible. We discussed it for awhile and left it for other topics.

The other day I received a package from Mom. In it, she included the wooden shoeshine box that I watched Dad pull out every Saturday. He learned a good spit-shine in the Army and he polished up his oxfords every week. Many of his sales calls were to farmers or dusty agricultural co-ops, so he had a lot of work to do to keep them looking spiffy. Years later when I met my husband in the Army, he, too, devoted a great deal of time and effort at keeping his boots and shoes looking neat. In fact, Dave, out of either pity or the chance to impress, taught me how to do a good spit-shine, too. [Key fact: use no spit. Cold water is much better.]

Mom also sent Dad's first rosary, blessed by Pope Benedict. Two of his friends brought it to him from a recent pilgrimmage to Rome. I find it funny that Dad's first pope as a Catholic was John Paul II, while mine was Pope Paul VI. [I missed it being John XXIII by only a few months.]

Finally, she included a small 'zen garden' that Dave and I gave to Dad for Father's Day five years ago. He was well along into his Alzheimer's and that little novelty gave his hands something to do besides trace the placemat with his juice glass. It now sits on my desktop with a small note that reads, "Serenity now."

They are all perfect little reminders of Dad: Army Dad, Catholic Dad, stricken Dad.