That’s not exactly the case… I did wake up in a camper at my inlaws’ house this morning, packed up to head to the center of upstate NY for work (presentation / demo tomorrow). That’s right, I woke up, inscribed a book of pirate adventures for my father-in-law, then drove the dogs to the kennel in Saratoga Springs and Kristin to the airport so she could visit a friend in Baltimore.
While I drove to Rome, I thought about my father, listening to an old Canned Heat album, one of his favorite bands back in the day, and a perfect companion on those country roads and the Thruway. Upon arrival at my aged hotel room, I sat down and wrote out as much as I could quickly remember about his timeline — where he lived and traveled at various points, some of his key moments, trauma, tragedies, moments of joy and terror.
Looking at the few pages I have jotted down, I realize I need to dig deeper into my memory for more about his life, and I also need to turn to his old workmates and friends, my mom, brother, sister, uncles, aunts, anyone who might remember more and help me fill in the details. Yes, another project — a bio of perhaps novella length that gives him a proper place in all our memories.
Because in the end, that’s all we have is what we leave in others.
And why not; he never got a proper eulogy…
So the day was actually quite fatherful, though only because I worked at it. This project should be fun.
