Father-Daughter Ties

I just got off the phone with my dad. He was treated to dinner at Robin's—German potato salad and hamburgers. My package arrived in time and he opened it today (Sadie was very interested in the contents . . . edible). My mother spoke in church there. Life is good. It is a happy thing to have a father living, committed, and interested. One of the few things I know is that my father loves me. We share a love of useful things, efficiency, water skiing and jogging, a job done well, chocolate malts, short phone calls, honesty. He would shake his head and admit, "Well, I don't know what kind of a father I've been to you kids." Then he would perk up, "But I've always been honest." It is enough to bring things round right. Honesty produces a clear mind, a good heart. In honesty, I don't know anyone who would have been a better father for us. Recently, I was taught the mother you have is the best mother for you. Surely, the same applies to the other half. Both of them visibly liked and enjoyed us. They wanted us around and had fun with us. We all play gin rummy and ping pong. Not having children yet, it is a puzzling thing to plan to enjoy being with little ones all the time. And, high praise to become used to someone. I always liked being with my family when we were under one roof. The feeling was reciprocal.

I was well grown when I clued into the oft-offered Father's Day tie. I didn't know it was a joke, a non-personal gift. I thought it was a good idea; who doesn't want their father to look nice? The past few years have been great tie-shopping years; attractive ties for my dad, and my brother-in-law. I didn't know this was a skill, and have been pleased with the response. On occasion, my brother-in-law has even borrowed ties from my dad, ties I had chosen for him. Anyone can tell you I'm not into fashion (a glance will suffice). The tie-buying gene is all the more surprising.

My dad is older now. In his eighty-fourth year and showing it. He was young for a long time. We kept him that way I'm sure. :) It is a real honor to be able to care for him now. I'm not there most of the time but prayer is, and we see the benefits. He asks when he's going to see me again, and not much else. I'm so glad he is still around. We have ties.

What's in a Name?

On Sunday after church, we rushed home to pop corn and slice apples. A choice of apple juice or milk completed the snack. We dug into the large bowl of buttered, salted popcorn with colored smaller bowls, passed the plate of green quartered apples, and sipped from our cups. I'm sure the idea was born when we were children. Now, popcorn and apples is a tradition. Along with her creation of cheese fondue, this is my mother's best meal. And then later, we ate Sunday dinner which could have been almost anything including a full breakfast or a slow-cooked meat. My father insisted on having carrot sticks present at every meal.

The method of popping corn evolved from jiffy pop pans with their expanding foil bonnets to hot air poppers to the immediate microwave. But as always, quality reigns and we've reverted to the more natural air popper. It wasn't till my mission that I learned to jiggle a covered pot over the stove with a small amount of oil and some corn kernels. I was a vigorous jiggler to ensure it wouldn't burn. Then, we tossed it all with salt or sugar. I thought it was quite inventive. Paring down the tools to increase the food's quality.

I try to operate with few tools because that is creativity. My art teacher says, "Don't think scarcity. Think abundance."

So, on Sunday, I find myself craving salted popcorn and fresh sweet apples with a mugful of milk. What are your Sunday traditions or favorite meals?