Memories for a Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all the Dads in our families and the families of our friends.

Because the Lake Vermilion property is being sold, this June weekend we are not up there where my thoughts would automatically go to my dad. But here I am at home in Maple Plain thinking about him anyway. I know he'd understand giving up the place up North. He, of all people, would understand. He left many places during his life and never had regrets or guilt - and he certainly never made me feel guilty about anything - ever. What he did make me feel was special, loved, smart, competent, and curious. Without trying he was always teaching and being curious about things he didn't know or hadn't seen before - and pointing out the beauty in things he had. In his never-lost Swedish accent, he'd point say, "Lookit dat!" I learned by his curiosity and crazy ideas (Doesn't dat rock look yust like Ernest Hemingway? I vonder how dat bird knows vhich berry dey can eat and vhich vone is poison?)

I remember being small and standing at the side of a two lane highway somewhere holding my dad's hand. He let go and said, "You cross when you think it's the right time." I never had an allowance and I never had 'chores'. I was just expected to help with whatever I was able to. When I was 12 he showed me where he kept the household money in his sock drawer. (They didn't have credit cards so it was a lot of cash.) He said to me, "If you ever need any money, Karen, come and take what you need." When I was 7, I was allowed to take the 14' boat and motor by myself. I grew up knowing I was trusted - which made me want to do things right.

I have so many memories of my dad because I spent so much time with him - in the boat, in the 'shop' (the workbench area of the garage), at the piano, in front of the TV, in the yard, on his back horsey-style, and on his lap. One of my favorite things was watching Lone Ranger with him. Every week I would get my gun (which was just the right size for a little girl), sit on his lap, and together we'd help the Lone Ranger get the bad guys. When he'd swing me around dancing the schottisch or hambo when I was little, I felt like a flying princess.

He never took me to a gymnastics or dance lesson. Never took me to a soccer game, a baseball game, or even the playground. Instead, I was with him wherever he went and he made me feel like that's the only thing he really wanted. He was happy to be with me and for me to be with him. He worked really, really hard all his life. He built and fixed all kinds of things, but the thing he was most proud of was me. What a great gift - to be so loved!