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Youâre reading these words so that means you have one. Some of you have more than one because thatâs how your mama rolls. You may have had the good one or you could have been stuck with the bad one. Whichever one you got youâve been affected. This isnât a riddle though it is beginning to sound like one. Simply, Iâm talking about dads.
I figure now is as good a time as any for a little Blonde on the Prairie therapy session. Go ahead and sit down on my couch. Get comfortable if youâd like to.
Shut your eyes and say the word. Ready?
You only have to say it once to conjure up hundreds if not thousands of feelings. Some of you will be able to recall smells and facial expressions. With your eyes closed look for your dad or the man who raised you. With your eyes still closed recognize your own facial expression as you remember. Iâve tried it myself. Depending on which memory is at the forefront I may find my face in a grin recalling my dadâs Norwegian, careful grin. A Norwegian man never wants to smile out loud for fear it would bring on too much attention. Other memories find my face contorting and stiff with a frown remembering the last time I saw him alive. He wanted to change the channel in the pre-op room but another patient was watching baseball. They came in shortly after to wheel my dad to a routine surgery that went amuck. My face wishes I could have changed the channel so at least he could have died with a scene from âThe Bold and the Beautifulâ on his mind instead of a baseball game. He hated sports.
I interviewed a man who shall remain nameless about the memories he had of his father. This isnât a riddle either. The man I interviewed begins with an âH,â ends in a âD,â and has an âusbanâ in the middle. Thatâs all Iâm gonna say about that.
This man told me the story of how his father just loved to go fishing. The man, then a boy didnât love to fish but he loved being with his dad and catching frogs and sitting in the boat. This day found just the two of them in a boat with the pet frogs theyâd found earlier in the day. This happened during the 1950âs. The dad loved to fish. They were at the Jamestown Reservoir. The boy asked his dad while sitting in the boat, âWhatâs biting out here dad?â
The dad said, âSon, Iâm going to tell you a story. A few years ago I was out fishing here with Uncle Ed. It was a day much like today but none of the fish were biting. The bass werenât biting; the walleyes werenât biting, no bullheads, nothâin! However, there were carp everywhere! Hundreds of carp were surrounding the boat. Nobody wanted to catch carp because they werenât good eating. That day though you could only see carp. They were very playful fish those carp- they were. I took my fishing line and cast out past the carp trying to catch a real fish. As I stood up my wallet fell out of my back pocket. Wouldnât you know it? It landed on one of the carps. One carp bounced my wallet to the next carp and that carp bounced it over to another carp and that carp threw it in the air to the next carp. Son, that was the first time anyone in the world had seen carp to carp walleting.â (Wall to wall carpeting âget it?) Ba, dump, dump!
Everything was going very Norman Rockwell-ish on this fishing trip between this boy and his dad until the boy asked, âThatâs funny dad but how do we catch the real fish?â The dad grabbed for one of the boys pet frogs. The boy, now a man, to this day saves every frog he sees in honor of the one that was offered as a gift to the real fish that perfect day in the 1950âs with his dad.
Close your eyes again. This time look at your dad not as your dad but as a little boy who grew into a man just like you. He was a boy who had to grow up with issues and situations and maybe nobody as a father figure to him, yet he was blessed with you-a child of his own. Visualize him doing the best he could with what he had in his suitcase of knowledge and father wisdom to pull from. Remember that maybe he had none because nobody filled those shoes for him. Forgiveness lives when we dare to take away all the worldly adjectives the word âdadâ conjures up. There is such pressure in that word when we use it selfishly-and we do. In our minds our dads are supposed to be as near to omnipotence as God but they are just a man. And if theyâre the good kind they love you and take you fishing and tell you jokes just so youâll enjoy the fishing trip even though they know you donât like fishing so much. If your dad made you struggle during your life-Iâm sorry you had to.
Whichever kind of dad you have this is the perfect weekend to open your eyes and tell him all you saw when I just asked you to close them. I closed my eyes and what did I see? A man named âDadâ who wanted the best for me and only had 24 hours to make a very difficult life work for not just him but a family. I opened my eyes and he is gone but completely forgiven.
If you are a dad itâs never to late to open the gate and welcome in your children. Call them and kids you should call back. It may be uncomfortable at first if itâs not the normal thing for you to do but soon enough it will feel so good. Dare to speak of memories. Focus on the good times and try not to bury the bad if they haunt you. Go fishing. Go to church together. Eat. Laugh. Call each other again before all our eyes close and we donât get the chance to.
I end in warning that this Fatherâs Day âif you are a son or daughter who catches frogs with your dad before going fishing â HIDE THEM! And be careful not to let a carp get your wallet. They might take a bullhead on a date and really mess up the aquatic circle of life. Carp to carp walleting is on the rise. Call 911 if you witness it yourself but not before having a very happy, forgiving, memorable Fatherâs Day ~2012!
Ingstad lives on the prairie near Valley City and writes this column for the Times-Record.