Like others here i particularly resonated with the smell of the coat and the gloves when you described inspecting it at the bottom of the stairs. It stirs such strong memories, that idea of exploring my parents coat for clues to their lives
Beautiful memories, Rich. I don't remember dad's coat (we were in Florida!) but do remember the scent of his suit coat after he came home from work: leather (from his desk chair) and a hint of chill and interiors from the a/c in the office and car. He quit smoking just after I was born, or there'd have been that, took.
Hey Medea. It's amazing and awesome to see the comments that this piece prompted. Memories of our fathers are obviously powerful and abundant!!! Thanks so much for sharing yours!
It is funny, isn't it? We carry these memories around like pebbles in the bottom of a river, only to be stirred when a current stirs them up. My dad is still alive (for which I am eternally grateful) but he has not had this scent in probably 30 or more years. Still, that's his alchemy. Thanks so much for the stir!
I love this one! I remember the coat exactly as you described it, even the little red flecks. I would always hurry and hang it back in the newel post whenever I cut the corner too fast and knocked it off. Love you!
So glad you like it Lib!!! I've been thinking alot about Dad the past few months and this was the first time something bubbled up that I wanted to write about. I like it, too!
Wait. That's not right. I forgot about that piece I did a few months ago about Dad and his belief that everyone has a number. I probably pushed that one out of my memory because he and I disagreed so much on that topic!
I know! I'm always so surprised when I see how much Jack and Dad look alike as young men. One of the reasons I love spending time with my brother. Such an awesome way to remember Dad.
can totally relate to this. we have dad's old winter coat in our closet at home. can't seem to bring myself to give it away - 17 years later.... should check the pockets and see if there is anything in it!
I love Dad poems - and this is a great one. I think the things that most remind me of my Dad are old tobacco tins that he used to keep screws in, or sometimes long thin tins that he kept tweezers in (he was a watch repairer.) I can smell the oil in them and see him using the bits. I think I have one of his coats too. A deeply unfashionable raincoat. I enjoy wearing it every now and then.
Thanks Mike!!! And thanks for sharing that memory of your dad. Tough to lose those guys, and having good memories helps keep them around, whether one can remember their voice or not!
Filled w feathers of birds from previous seasons, along w needle nose pliers, in case “Bingo” our English setter got into a Porcupine. That vest I now don when I have the good fortune to tramp the woods of northern Michigan w its pungent autumn odors and morning frosted ferns.
It is this time I feel the closest to Dad as a flood of memories of Bingo’s quivering points, the thunder of a flushing grouse and for me the multitude of “almosts” that seem to pervade.
Like others here i particularly resonated with the smell of the coat and the gloves when you described inspecting it at the bottom of the stairs. It stirs such strong memories, that idea of exploring my parents coat for clues to their lives
Thanks so much for your recollection, David. I've loved reading these memories! Parallel lives!!!
Beautiful memories, Rich. I don't remember dad's coat (we were in Florida!) but do remember the scent of his suit coat after he came home from work: leather (from his desk chair) and a hint of chill and interiors from the a/c in the office and car. He quit smoking just after I was born, or there'd have been that, took.
Hey Medea. It's amazing and awesome to see the comments that this piece prompted. Memories of our fathers are obviously powerful and abundant!!! Thanks so much for sharing yours!
It is funny, isn't it? We carry these memories around like pebbles in the bottom of a river, only to be stirred when a current stirs them up. My dad is still alive (for which I am eternally grateful) but he has not had this scent in probably 30 or more years. Still, that's his alchemy. Thanks so much for the stir!
The Father, The Child and the Man
My father he's a good man
And he's raised his family right
I can hear his voice in mine
When I wish my girl goodnight
I know he's had his problems
Lord, I still have a few
But I've realized he's just a man
And that's all I am too
Though he's reached his autumn years
The oak's still standing tall
And I will be there with him
As the leaves begin to fall
Chorus
It seems a few short years ago
I was just a kid
And I paid great attention
To the things my father did
Now I have a family of my own
And I'm mindful how the twig is bent
The tree is surely grown
So I try with all my heart to do
The best job that I can
With the father, child and the man
My daughter has her mother's charm
A blessing in disguise
Cause old men, kids and animals
Are drawn to her like flies
She's young and smart and stubborn
Living fancy free
But there's a tougher side to teenage life
Not too hard to see
And we both have faced those conflicts
And the stark uncertainty
Between heaven and the heartbreak
And responsibility
Chorus
Yes it seems a few short years ago
I was just a boy
But that boy he's still a part of me
Playing with my toys
And this father loves his daughter
I wish her all the best
And I'll be her dad for comfort
And I'll be her dad for rest
This old man's got a ton of chores
Choices that he's made
Promises he'd best fulfill
Bills that must be paid
Chorus
It seems a few short years ago
I was just a kid
And I paid great attention
To the things my father did
Now I have a family of my own
And I'm mindful how the twig is bent
The tree is surely grown
So I try with all my heart to do
The best job that I can
With the father, child and the man
https://youtu.be/aeN3vPYGh6E?si=Xq0_WXYOwDlBtXnK
Wow! I can always count on you contributint something so on point and something I've generally never seen or read. Thanks so much Malcolm!
You are welcome.
I love this one! I remember the coat exactly as you described it, even the little red flecks. I would always hurry and hang it back in the newel post whenever I cut the corner too fast and knocked it off. Love you!
So glad you like it Lib!!! I've been thinking alot about Dad the past few months and this was the first time something bubbled up that I wanted to write about. I like it, too!
Wait. That's not right. I forgot about that piece I did a few months ago about Dad and his belief that everyone has a number. I probably pushed that one out of my memory because he and I disagreed so much on that topic!
Oh my gosh. So vivid and that picture. It’s Jack!
I know! I'm always so surprised when I see how much Jack and Dad look alike as young men. One of the reasons I love spending time with my brother. Such an awesome way to remember Dad.
It sure is 💙
can totally relate to this. we have dad's old winter coat in our closet at home. can't seem to bring myself to give it away - 17 years later.... should check the pockets and see if there is anything in it!
Yes, go check the pockets, Lolo. Let me know if you find a Tootsie Roll!!!
I love Dad poems - and this is a great one. I think the things that most remind me of my Dad are old tobacco tins that he used to keep screws in, or sometimes long thin tins that he kept tweezers in (he was a watch repairer.) I can smell the oil in them and see him using the bits. I think I have one of his coats too. A deeply unfashionable raincoat. I enjoy wearing it every now and then.
Thanks Mike!!! And thanks for sharing that memory of your dad. Tough to lose those guys, and having good memories helps keep them around, whether one can remember their voice or not!
Ur dads coat was akin to my dads hunting vest
Filled w feathers of birds from previous seasons, along w needle nose pliers, in case “Bingo” our English setter got into a Porcupine. That vest I now don when I have the good fortune to tramp the woods of northern Michigan w its pungent autumn odors and morning frosted ferns.
It is this time I feel the closest to Dad as a flood of memories of Bingo’s quivering points, the thunder of a flushing grouse and for me the multitude of “almosts” that seem to pervade.
Great piece of days gone by Rich
Hey Dusty. So glad this piece triggered such fond memories. I love your reflection about your dad and your time with him!
One of your best. Bill
Thanks Bill. Crazy how vivid some memories are and how others are so lost.