Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Happy birthday, Dad

Today would have been Dad's 87th birthday.

It's strange, but four and a half years after his death, I still think of him every day.  Some days it's a sad remembrance, but mostly it's situational - I will be doing something and I will suddenly hear his voice whispering in the back of my head.  Dad was never short of advice, although it was almost always good.

I'm moving furniture here in Camp Borepatch as I get it ready to sell.  I almost always hear him remind me Skin grows back; varnish doesn't.  Thanks, Dad.

But some memories are deeply embedded.  A long forgotten scent can bring a sudden cascade of them, an unexpected upwelling of that part of our soul that tells us who we are.  Brigid writes of this and her Dad, and the scent of after shave.  My Dad used Mennin, and the one time I smelled it in the last few years all I could think of was him and all the memories of times long ago.

Thanks, Brigid, for all those memories.  And this bit made me laugh out loud:
I think the perfect man natural scent would be some sort of mysterious combination of gun cleaning fluid, coffee, bacon, woodsmoke, and dark beer (with a slight undertone of 20 year old British Motor Car Wheel Bearing Grease.)
Because there is absolutely nothing in this whole wide world that's not improved by bacon ...

10 comments:

drjim said...

My Dad passed away in 1992, and I still think of him daily.

And he used Mennin, too.

I;ll always remember those TV commercials: "Mennin....for MEN!".

libertyman said...

Your Dad did a good job of raising you and imparting strong values, an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and a willingness to share your learning with others. We , who have been fortunate to be some of the recipients, are lucky to have you continue his legacy. He would be proud, I know.

Brigid said...

Thanks for the memories and the mention Ted. Dad wore Mennon when I was little. I don't really remember the scent but I distinctly remember the bottle and if I'm correct, a bright green color to it. I do wish I could have met your Dad. He raised a fine son.

maddmedic said...

Lost my Dad last week.
Taught me much about life.

Miss him terribly.

STxAR said...

Lost my dad in '06. He wore Old Spice. I can't wear it, too many memories. I used to call dad when I was driving home after work. If it was getting near sundown, I'd call and see what he'd been doing all day. There are times I still catch myself, reaching for the cell.... He was a tough old peace officer. One of the old breed...

I wear Club Man. My wife purrs when I put it on!! It has a definite wood smell, not tiny at all.

STxRynn

Jerry The Geek said...

Yes, men and our fathers. A lot of memories, and we're called upon to imbed similar memories to our children. Your dad and mine were both a strong presence.

All fathers are a strong presence, if they stay with their families. For good or ill, and we are privileged to have had fathers who leave good memories for their children. Not all fathers do that, you know. We're the lucky ones.

So it comes down to us to be the fathers that we want to have had, for OUR children. The best things a father can do is to be there for us, and to provide a good role model. I'm not the best father I can be, I don't live up to my own "Pop", but I do love my children and perhaps that's the best I can do.

But I don't wear after shave. On me, it smells like an insincere preacher.

Chickenmom said...

My Dad wore Mennen, too. He's been gone for 18 years now, but every once in a while I'll buy a small bottle of it. Uncanny how a scent or a sound can bring back a flood of memories.

abnormalist said...


Seriously makes me wonder what my kids will think of their Dads scent...

A combination of Old Spice, Barbasol, coffee, dark beer, cut pine, and wood glue probably :)

Been trying to cut back on the bacon... trying... One day at a time...

ASM826 said...

Old Spice, woodsmoke, the smell of old Peters shotgun shells being fired, Hoppes (the old, bad, stuff with benzene and banana oil), balsam fir needles, the list goes on.

burkdoggy said...

I lost a big part of my dad in'91 when his heart fibrillated and he didn't breathe for several minutes. He's 89 now and I sorely miss the laughs, the advice and the ribbings.

Still a good man, only it's as if he's someone else in my dad's body.

Should be used to by now.