On being the Patriarch
My Dad died forty two years ago this week.
When you think about it, the bloke who is now supposedly leading our country wasn’t to be born for another three years. It sort of puts the time-span in perspective?
He was a very quiet man. I never heard him raise his voice above a gruff rumble and that was only after I had done something particularly stupid. His was always the calming voice of reason and he seemed to have the answer to every problem.
I have thought of him more frequently over the last wee while. When a major tempest hits the normally calm family seas he is the one I would have turned to for advice and even just a quiet word. But he isn’t there any more and the buck – as they say – stops with me. The only resources I can call upon are my own.
It’s tough at the top.
Bugger.
Let me see now.
1. Are you a calming voice of reason?
2. Have you an answer for any family problem?
3. Are you a very quiet man?
Two Nos out of three and it’s not like-father-like-son; you’re not a Patriarch and it’s not tough at the top. You conclude, against logic: “The only resources I can call upon are my own.” – Where does Herself fit into this scheme of things?
1 and 3 are fine. Everyone knows how reasonable and quiet I am? I doubt anyone could say yes to 2, except maybe Supershadow.
Herself expects me to have all the answers too.
🙁
ahh you’ve prempted my correction. I was going to reply to this ” It’s tough at the top. ” with ‘I’m sure she says it is!”
…you did kinda walk into that one…
I’m fortunate indeed that my Ol’ Dad (80 something)is alive, well and rambling (in strict accordance with the OS map) and has just gotten himself a new toy…some kinda microscope thingy that plugs into the laptop and with which he can then amuse the family with slo mo videos of the microbes in his garden pond….amuse us all for hours…
At least he is fit and active, despite having given up smoking a couple of decades ago (I blame his much younger wife for keeping me & my sybillings from our inheritance).
All I can say is make the most of him while he’s still around.
Dads are underrated!
My old dad died on his 61st. birthday in 1975. He survived Dunkirk but was blown up – twice – at Monte Cassino. He was an award-winning army boxer, tall, strong and ever handy with his fists. As I found out frequently when a very young child. But he took me for many walks around the local moors, taught me about the animals and plants, how to survive in the wild, and gave me a life-long appreciation of nature and some valuable rules for living. He was tough, and I miss him terribly. I wish that I could be the iron backbone and total love to my children and grandchildren that he was. Just think – we are all the result of our parent’s upbringing. The resources you can call on are both yours and your ancestors. Can’t be only your own resources. It’s very tough at the top, but you won’t be there forever. Think on.
Wise words indeed. I often ask myself what my Dad would do in a particular situation. I suppose my problem is more of a wish that someone else could shoulder the odd burden or two occasionally. Other times though, it’s fun being at the top of the tree!