This morning, I'm thinking about my Dad.
As I write this, it's about 6 AM, and he would be very proud of that. Raised on a farm, he kept that internal alarm clock his whole life. He never owned a real one, he didn't need it.
I was raised inside a Diner. Literally. Uptown West Lorne. It's where I developed my lifelong love for burgers and chips, but, that's beside my point.
The restaurant opened early every day, VERY early. But, BEFORE that, he liked to go fishing at the River. He'd take me with him most mornings to catch pickerel, because, according to him, it was the only edible fish on the planet. (I was almost an adult before I found out there was a whole smorgasbord of edible fish!). I don't remember catching much, but, I do remember crawling around the banks hunting for lost lures, Canadian Wigglers, if I remember that right. So, at least I was useful. I'd go back to bed after, as there would still be a few hours before school started, and he would serve up breakfast in the diner.
Later on, he became a Real Estate Broker, and my snooze alarm. He'd wake me up for school. Again. And Again. And Again. As many times as it took until he lost it, then I'd know it was really time to get up. I'm sure that time was a serious impediment to his morning routine, but, if not for him, I'm pretty sure I would have slept through high school.
In the early 90's, he finally got his dream cottage on an Island in Jack's Lake, mostly chosen because the lake had pickerel. Steve & I would often stay for weekends, and, of course, neither of us were morning people. By the time we rolled out of bed around 9:30, we'd find a very long "to do" list on the kitchen table, with most of it already done. Always with a few items saved for us though.
As far as Dad was concerned, half the day is gone by 9 AM. More and more now, I find myself up at sunrise, and I finally understand what he meant. I'm still not the morning person he tried to train me to be, but, I've come a long way. Well, as long as no one actually speaks to me too early. ;)
So, on this very special (& early!) Sunday morning, I send a silent coffee cheer to Big Al. Happy Father's Day Dad!
As I write this, it's about 6 AM, and he would be very proud of that. Raised on a farm, he kept that internal alarm clock his whole life. He never owned a real one, he didn't need it.
I was raised inside a Diner. Literally. Uptown West Lorne. It's where I developed my lifelong love for burgers and chips, but, that's beside my point.
The restaurant opened early every day, VERY early. But, BEFORE that, he liked to go fishing at the River. He'd take me with him most mornings to catch pickerel, because, according to him, it was the only edible fish on the planet. (I was almost an adult before I found out there was a whole smorgasbord of edible fish!). I don't remember catching much, but, I do remember crawling around the banks hunting for lost lures, Canadian Wigglers, if I remember that right. So, at least I was useful. I'd go back to bed after, as there would still be a few hours before school started, and he would serve up breakfast in the diner.
Later on, he became a Real Estate Broker, and my snooze alarm. He'd wake me up for school. Again. And Again. And Again. As many times as it took until he lost it, then I'd know it was really time to get up. I'm sure that time was a serious impediment to his morning routine, but, if not for him, I'm pretty sure I would have slept through high school.
In the early 90's, he finally got his dream cottage on an Island in Jack's Lake, mostly chosen because the lake had pickerel. Steve & I would often stay for weekends, and, of course, neither of us were morning people. By the time we rolled out of bed around 9:30, we'd find a very long "to do" list on the kitchen table, with most of it already done. Always with a few items saved for us though.
As far as Dad was concerned, half the day is gone by 9 AM. More and more now, I find myself up at sunrise, and I finally understand what he meant. I'm still not the morning person he tried to train me to be, but, I've come a long way. Well, as long as no one actually speaks to me too early. ;)
So, on this very special (& early!) Sunday morning, I send a silent coffee cheer to Big Al. Happy Father's Day Dad!
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