The gift of story
I’ve been meaning to call my Dad’s college room mate for quite a while. They were such good friends and I’m always excited to hear about him from friends who knew him so well. The catalyst for the call was a post on Facebook where he and Rosalie posted this picture in celebration of their 60th anniversary.
I should start by telling you that while Peter may me 82 years old (assuming he’s the same age as my Dad), but he doesn’t seem to have slowed down … by any standards! His consulting business was recently turned down for a huge grant to conduct research to explore new fibers that could be woven into clothing that could provide mobility to people wearing the garments …. pretty wild! But he is undeterred - and plans to find a way to pursue the project some other way. He rattled of many activities that I missed - but the one that stuck is that he performs in six bands … Rosalie performs too - but in only three bands. I think you get the idea … if you plan to spend time with Peter, you’d better be ready to run to keep up.
The call was one of the most wonderful things I have done for myself in quite some time. In addition to catching up generally about what has happened in each of our lives in the years since we’d last connected, Peter also shared three stories that helped me remember my Dad’s personality in ways that I have not remembered for too long - and felt his absence with sadness that I haven’t been able to access for many years.
During the call, Peter shared three quick anecdotes that, for me, brought Dad's memory alive in ways I haven't experienced for a long time ... too long! I needed to write these stories to help me remember them … to keep Dad alive
One of the years they lived together in college, they shared a tiny dorm room with just two beds, a desk that they built themselves, and a sink. The sink was old and almost always would be dripping - and when they were trying to sleep, was impossible to ignore. But each night, they "competed" to see who would have to get out of bed to tighten the faucet - and most nights, Dad won by asking politely "does that dripping bother you"? I've always been proud of my conniving laziness ... and now I know where it comes from!
One day, Peter and Dad were in the shower and discussing the absolute WORST thing that might ever happen would be when they got married. So they decided that the first person to marry should receive a gift from the other - in sympathy of course - for this horrible thing that was happening to them. Peter married first, and Dad paid up. But of course there was a twist ... not cash, a check ... and the check was embedded in a block of lucite (evidently, this was no easy task - but Dad was determined!). Peter still has the check - and the cigarette box it was attached to.
This last story isn't so much about Dad ... but rather the cosmic forces in the universe that are so difficult to understand. Peter and Rosalie went camping the weekend that Dad died. When Peter packed the car, he somehow forgot to include the tent poles so when they arrived at the campsite, they decided to lay the tent flat on the ground and sleep outside. It started raining in the morning and Rosalie decided they should go home (pretty sure they were NOT on the same page about this one). The phone was ringing when they entered the house - it was me calling - to let them know that Dad had died. If he remembered the tent poles, they would certainly have missed the funeral
I can’t wait to find a time to spend more time with Peter - to hear more of these stories - and to explore a connection to my Dad that is still VERY much alive in Peter's memories. Stay tuned ...