The other day I was sitting listening to presentations by my students, with rapt attention I might add, when I looked down at my hands to a sort of shocking revelation. I have my fathers hands! It was as if I noticed for the first time and the impact of this revelation was both moving and strange at the same time. I actually gasped? I am sure the students thought the tears in my eyes were the result of pride in their performance - so, I guess I killed the proverbial "two birds with one stone."
I guess I should back up a little here. My father passed away some years ago now, and for any of you who have lost a parent, it pretty much feels like it was last week, no matter how long its been! My Dad and I were close. He was a funny old Brit with an incredible sense of humor and a frustrating affinity for mundane - but tasty - food and a fairly predictable lifestyle. My parents separated when I was quite young and we lived, just the two of us, like the "Odd Couple" for the remainder of the time, in a modest apartment in Oshawa Ontario. One morning over our porridge - which he made Sundays and froze in bowls for the entire week, ( yes - chilli week, then stew week...see what I mean about mundane..) he announced that the two of us had now lived together longer than he had been married to my mother. We both considered the point, momentarily, then went back to our breakfasts.
Dad was a bit of a "play it safe guy." When I said I had been accepted to Teachers College at Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, he responded with his matter of fact British words of encouragement, "oh...that's a bit like money for old rope, isn't it?". I am still not sure why that was his response, but I do remember being offended slightly and launching off into some sort of dissertation into the importance of education, heartfelt and sincere.. which he aptly interrupted with "wait, teachers have great pension plans don't they,...well done lad" Later when the desire to start a Renovation company burned in me so bad that I mustered up enough courage to register it, and make a go of it, his words of resounding support went something like..."oh....I don't know if I'd do that son...renovations are a hard way to make a living..." or something of that nature. It sounds kind of weird but for all of the "encouragement" Pops gave me (we nicknamed him Nostradamus later in life..) not once did I really take offence. All of his motivation was based in his love and concern for me, and I got that. Don't get me wrong, he was proud of the results, and open with the praise as well, but always a little light on the risk taking.
As time went on and our company expanded, it was nice to have Pops around to bounce ideas off and chat to about the daily goings on of our workplace. I used to telephone him every morning around the same time and as per our routine, he always asked, "how are the kids, how is Anne and Cooper (our Black Lab) and how is the business?" always in that order and always everyday without fail. I wish he was here to see how far we have come at JWS Woodworking. How many supporters and cheer leaders we have. How our support has grown so that we can give back to the community ( the amounts we give would have made him nervous too...) and how much fun we are having. Spring is a great time to reflect and to plan for growth, stretch out and make new paths. The point here is, we are surrounded by friends, supporters, employers and clients, but in the end - the "hands" are ours. What we make of our challenges, what we make of our circumstances and our challenges on a daily basis are OURS to tackle and solve with the tools, the "hands" we are given. It is up to us to make this season, this life I guess, what it is and what it will be. Thank you to all of our new clients and staff additions for making this the most exciting upcoming season ever!
And, oh ya...Pops, thanks for the hands! Have a reflective Easter Weekend! John
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