Sometimes it was lost. When I was small and romping through childhood, father seemed to be a relatively mild person. So, my brother and I came to rely on that calm, that parental placidity. In essence, when around him, our brat quotient tended to elevate. Father was patient, and we took advantage it.
But there was one time…how I wished I could remember what we had done! It must have been extraordinary – all I remember is father rising from the table (our antics had apparently interrupted his dinner), saying “God DAMMIT” and…and essentially all memory is erased after that. Perhaps nothing did happen after that – I do recall that we were running extremely fast.
Father has no patience with brats.
There was another time, but it had nothing to do with us. Rather, it had to do with a circumstance our family found itself in. We were driving home from the 1976 Olympics – someone thought it would be a whimsical idea to travel from Montreal to Los Angeles via car.
It was at night. We were in Boston. Suddenly a car stopped in front of us – and another stopped in back of us. I am not sure if our car was approached – all I remember is father flinging the door open and charging outside. I remember nothing else, as by that time I was hiding under the car seat.
Moments later, we continued to meander our way through an apparently bad part of a strange city. Father has no patience with punks.
Many years later, I was having one of my many insect-related hysterics. As – in this case – There Is A Bee In My Kitchen. I think I even trapped it in my refrigerator. I called home, of course, in a panic. I cannot vouch for what sense I made – my guess is that it was precious little. It could not be helped. I believe I mentioned that there was A Bee In My Kitchen.
When I finally hung up, I had insisted repeatedly that I didn’t need any help – a blatant lie.
Minutes later, there was a knock at my door. It was my father, brandishing a fly swatter like a pikestaff, ready to do battle. I don’t recall the details of the ensuing fight, but I don’t doubt that a honey bee met its maker that evening. It deserved to die. It was IN MY KITCHEN.
Father has no patience with anything that makes me cry.
I love my impatient Father.
Happy Father’s Day.