Apples and a banana … and 10,000 miles away from home in the Philippines. It was my dad’s first Christmas away after joining the Navy and he was missing his mother. And she obviously missed him, too. Apples and a banana is what she mailed to him that year for Christmas. He says when the package got to him, they were so rotten you could barely read the address through the paper and string they were wrapped in. He says he realized two things: “my mama wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and a mothers love is deep, as she sent the only thing she had since she was quite poor”.

I am my father …

I always thought I was more like my mother, and of course I am to some degree, but after spending time with my dad celebrating his 86th birthday, I realized how much we have in common. Both of us like to talk. Both of us love to tell a good story and it’s usually gonna have a funny or poignant ending. For example, as we were sitting having breakfast one morning, he told a story of how he had recently been stopped by the State Police because he was speeding. When asked what was his hurry, he said, “My brother-in-law is in the car just ahead and he has the hot pizza.” The cop replied, in his deepest Southern Georgia drawl, “Are ya that hongry?” Dad said without even thinking twice it just fell out of his mouth, “No sir, as a matter of fact, I just lost my appetite.” We laughed so hard. And then I had to share my “Ma’am, do you know what aisle the peanut butter is on?”Walmart story. Yep, my reply, which also just fell out of my mouth was, “Ma’am, I’ve been shopping at Walmart for years and am just now noticing the parking lot aisles are numbered so I don’t have to wander around like the Israelites in the desert trying to find my car! So, no ma’am, I have no idea what aisle the peanut butter is on”.

Thinking back over my life, my daddy was always doing something for others. I vividly remember as we were driving to Grannie’s house one Christmas Dad wanted to stop and get her a basket of fruit (apples and bananas, no doubt). Daddy was driving and Mama, sitting beside him, was just a fussin’ about how he had done plenty for his Mama throughout the years. And I remember saying, “Mama, why would you fuss at someone wanting to be kind to another person?” Mama quietly cried all the way to Grannie’s house that Christmas. I realized two things in that moment. There was a lot more behind Mama’s fussing and I’m pretty sure now, after all these years later, they weren’t fussing over a basket of fruit. Second, I sure was one smart mouthed teenager. Not one of my finer moments in life for sure. I should have been reprimanded but I wasn’t, maybe because it was Christmas. It hurts me now to think of Mama crying because of me knowing I never said how sorry I was to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.

Celebrating dad’s birthday this year with him was done because of my love for him and my gratitude for all he’s done for me throughout the years. He deserves my love and respect, if for no other reason than he gave me life. We all gathered at the local Bed & Breakfast in town for a luncheon in his honor and as he walked into the home, he looked around and said he didn’t think we would all be able to fit. “Where’s everyone gonna sit? There won’t be enough room”, he said. Always more worried about others than himself … I am my father.

He has spent his entire life worrying about and caring for others, most especially his family. I am my father. He has helped bury six of his siblings and he has watched over some of his sisters who are still living. Hard to believe so many of his siblings left this earth long before him since he was one of the oldest in his family. He sees a need and answers the call of his heart, taking groceries to the hungry. I am my father. My big heart? I got from my father. Christmas baskets, groceries, buying chicken dinner plates for others? I am my father. A man who grew up so poor, receiving only a banana or nuts or an orange for Christmas, joined the Navy and 10,000 miles away from home receiving rotten fruit from a mama who loved him so much she sent all she had to send, well, I say he deserves my love and respect for sure.

One thing I can count on is as long as he’s breathing, he will be talking, telling funny stories, helping his sisters in their ailing health, just as he helped his mama and his siblings who have passed on. And one thing HE can count on is my love and respect.

Love is about giving from the heart with all your heart. Love is my father. I am my father.