I remember never wanting to learn to drive. If you think about it, with Mom and Dad on call as able chauffeurs, who could blame me for my reticense? As with anything I did not want to do, I now recognize that my reluctance was always the product of an element of fear that multi-coloured my opinions and driving had the highest panic quotient of all the scary unknown realms that seemed to spread out endlessly before me. There was swimming across the lake, jumping off the high board at age 7, playing the piano for guests, (see major shyness here) staying home alone (as the token adult) at 16and being responsible for my three younger sibs,looking over my parents last will and testament before the trip that saw me left as the chief caregiver etc etc. Who wants to look at their parents' legal papers 'in case' something bad happens to them? Definitely not me as I always feared losing them and no not because I feared being left to raise a little sister and two brothers. I must have been fear-filled as a child which could not have sat well with Dad who was fearless personified. I think it is therefore quite understandable then that his parenting syle became more focussed on the bravery aspect of the child; and not just for me, but for my sibs as well. When force teaching my litle sister to drive the family motor boat he lulled her into a false sense of security by promising not to leave her alone in the boat, yet as soon as she took the wheel he grabbed his water ski and jumped into the lake. Baptism by fire, or she learned by necessity, it doesn't change the fact that she learned against her will, but she is now a confident ski-tower thanks to our father. I am sure that today, so many years later, she realizes that without his 'help' there would be one less item scratched off her 'fear list'. Now back to my driving dilemma...I tried really hard to avoid getting into the drivers seat of the old family station wagon, but one day my luck ran out and there I was. With Dad sitting by my side I was told to "DRIVE" and not just drive, but once my ability to navigate a straight line and simple turns was established, the command FAST was added to the mix of instructions. I remember arriving at my first red stop sign with a tremendous sense of relief; now I could stop and stop I did..for several minutes until Dad informed me that contrary to what my obvious perception of a stop sign was, it was "not a hotel" and I needed to move right along. So much for a reprieve from the rigeurs of driving fast. As soon as possible Dad had me on the highways where there were no stop signs so basically it was full speed ahead. I remember gaining confidence through the months that followed until the day of a hale storm when Iwas on my way to Vermont on my own. I pulled over to call Dad to say I couldn't see a thing because my wipers couldn't go as fast as the percipitation was pelting, thinking he would say good move, wait it out, WRONG! Dad's instruction was to get back on the road and drive through it". I couldn't have known then, how valuable that order would prove to be in the years to come. Somewhere deep inside I knew that Dad believed I could do it. So do it I did. In the eternity that has passed since those days the one constant that remains is Dad's conviction that we his kids could do anything we wanted or tried to do as long as the effort was there. The message was to try it all, and allow no fear to enter into the equation. I would gladly go back to that first day in Old Betsy, and to hear Dad say: :You can do it!"
Happy Father's Day Daddy. How could four kids be so lucky? You know the answer!!
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