That blonde-haired younger brother appears in my mind often. We are together paddling a tin canoe we had made from a sheet of galvanised roofing iron. We have sealed the bow and stern with sticky tar lifted from our street. The vessel has no keel, is difficult to balance with two of us aboard and is soon taking water. We are in the middle of the muddy river but as I sit in the rear and know we are sinking, all I can hear is his laughter. Abandoning ship, we tow our tinny ashore and hide it in the mangroves. Walking home in our muddy shorts we hope mum will be laughing too. Yes Alia, he will be with us forever.
Reading and listening to your post, I suspect the bond between you and your father was/is very deep, so much so that you find connections wherever you look. That’s a wonderful thing, hidden, unremembered bits coming to the surface linked in some way to your father. It’s a way to keep him with you even though he’s gone.
Hello Alia, it was lovely to read about your father and to read the way he shaped your lives. How incredible the mind is that music and words and images jump out at you, linking you to your father, reminding you of him, even years after he has passed.
Smells and music seem to bring back memories for me. And I always laugh when I see a van on the road, because now I am a proud owner of a family van I see them everywhere. (They weren’t on my radar before).
Hope all is well in your little part of Australia.
Thank you, Kate. Smells are fabulous memory triggers, aren't they.
I'm doing OK. A little under the weather at the moment after a trip to the city to visit a sick relative in hospital. The irony of a place for healing being the hot spot of disease 😂
”it is my mind in the white sheet” what a great line. Im on a bus driving through an April snow storm. The whole world’s in a white sheet. Coincidence? He he
I guess I prefer these days to let meaning be formed by the strangest of things. Whereas in the past I might have felt the need to shelter in firm explanation. Maybe meaning and truth and certainty and richness are a beautiful theatre from which you take what you will.
I think that's a lovely way to let it be. I must confess, my desire to rationalise such things comes from an utter discomfort in believing that anything out there can co-ordinate such things. It's. Just. Freaky. 😂
Oh I so totally agree. Coordination seems far too bureaucratic for life. Gives the impression of ghostly shopkeepers balancing their karma books. That’s. Just. Freaky :)
I suppose I just think that meaning is, like everything, a creation of the human mind, so maybe the stories told in a house are more important than the bricks and mortar that build the house. But it’s so hard to measure and categorise stories so we lean too far toward seeing only bricks and mortar.
Ha ha, yep, well Newton would give you an intuitive and material answer with Dawkins clapping along, but then Heisenberg and Schrödinger would tell you a whole other very unintuitive story that would get you questioning what your question even means. It’s. Just. Freaky. 🤣
Maybe I want my Easter egg and eat it too ;) he he
What a lovely explanation for all these coincidences, your dear dad is very much alive in these beautiful moments. For me, it’s Country Roads, which I sung softly in the moments before dad’s passing, his favourite song. Walking past a pub in Camden Market to hear the musician playing it, or just stopped to each lunch in Greece when the busker right in front of us starts playing it or at my cousins wedding about to take a family photo of 40+ people when the band starts playing it…..coincidence???? Xx
That's a great song, Loz. How special that it's 'yours'. I love how music attaches to memory. And that sure is a 'coincidence' that song came on during the family photo. Like I said, I can never be sure of anything. 🙃
I’m reminded of my dad every time I look in the mirror – or I was until I grew the beard, because he was clean-shaven all his life. Always thought we were pretty much the same person, just born a generation apart. He’s been gone 14 years now.
Lovely piece, Alia, and as always, interesting thoughts to take away. Thank you.
That blonde-haired younger brother appears in my mind often. We are together paddling a tin canoe we had made from a sheet of galvanised roofing iron. We have sealed the bow and stern with sticky tar lifted from our street. The vessel has no keel, is difficult to balance with two of us aboard and is soon taking water. We are in the middle of the muddy river but as I sit in the rear and know we are sinking, all I can hear is his laughter. Abandoning ship, we tow our tinny ashore and hide it in the mangroves. Walking home in our muddy shorts we hope mum will be laughing too. Yes Alia, he will be with us forever.
A beautiful story. I can picture it so vividly, Jeff. Laughing as the ship goes down 😂
Reading and listening to your post, I suspect the bond between you and your father was/is very deep, so much so that you find connections wherever you look. That’s a wonderful thing, hidden, unremembered bits coming to the surface linked in some way to your father. It’s a way to keep him with you even though he’s gone.
It is lovely, Paul. At first I found them painful, but time has softened them into something comforting.
Hello Alia, it was lovely to read about your father and to read the way he shaped your lives. How incredible the mind is that music and words and images jump out at you, linking you to your father, reminding you of him, even years after he has passed.
Smells and music seem to bring back memories for me. And I always laugh when I see a van on the road, because now I am a proud owner of a family van I see them everywhere. (They weren’t on my radar before).
Hope all is well in your little part of Australia.
Kate :)
Thank you, Kate. Smells are fabulous memory triggers, aren't they.
I'm doing OK. A little under the weather at the moment after a trip to the city to visit a sick relative in hospital. The irony of a place for healing being the hot spot of disease 😂
Hope you are feeling well soon
”it is my mind in the white sheet” what a great line. Im on a bus driving through an April snow storm. The whole world’s in a white sheet. Coincidence? He he
I guess I prefer these days to let meaning be formed by the strangest of things. Whereas in the past I might have felt the need to shelter in firm explanation. Maybe meaning and truth and certainty and richness are a beautiful theatre from which you take what you will.
Thank you, Jonathan.
I think that's a lovely way to let it be. I must confess, my desire to rationalise such things comes from an utter discomfort in believing that anything out there can co-ordinate such things. It's. Just. Freaky. 😂
Oh I so totally agree. Coordination seems far too bureaucratic for life. Gives the impression of ghostly shopkeepers balancing their karma books. That’s. Just. Freaky :)
I suppose I just think that meaning is, like everything, a creation of the human mind, so maybe the stories told in a house are more important than the bricks and mortar that build the house. But it’s so hard to measure and categorise stories so we lean too far toward seeing only bricks and mortar.
I like that. I'm sold. Now I just need to convince my brain to stop asking how I got in the house in the first place 😅
Ha ha, yep, well Newton would give you an intuitive and material answer with Dawkins clapping along, but then Heisenberg and Schrödinger would tell you a whole other very unintuitive story that would get you questioning what your question even means. It’s. Just. Freaky. 🤣
Maybe I want my Easter egg and eat it too ;) he he
Haha, 😂 I don't have a comeback for that one 👏
Enjoy your Easter Jonathan. I (really) am off to hide some eggs.
Same to you pal ;) Enjoy
What a lovely explanation for all these coincidences, your dear dad is very much alive in these beautiful moments. For me, it’s Country Roads, which I sung softly in the moments before dad’s passing, his favourite song. Walking past a pub in Camden Market to hear the musician playing it, or just stopped to each lunch in Greece when the busker right in front of us starts playing it or at my cousins wedding about to take a family photo of 40+ people when the band starts playing it…..coincidence???? Xx
That's a great song, Loz. How special that it's 'yours'. I love how music attaches to memory. And that sure is a 'coincidence' that song came on during the family photo. Like I said, I can never be sure of anything. 🙃
I’m reminded of my dad every time I look in the mirror – or I was until I grew the beard, because he was clean-shaven all his life. Always thought we were pretty much the same person, just born a generation apart. He’s been gone 14 years now.
Lovely piece, Alia, and as always, interesting thoughts to take away. Thank you.
Thank you, Steve. That's a strong connection to have with your dad. It's fascinating how genes sometimes replicate those who've gone before.