Memory Lane - 1998

 

One of the best parts about packing is coming across objects or photos I had forgotten we owned. The irony for today’s ‘find’ is that the photo of Joe and Megan has been on my dresser for 25 years and I stopped really seeing it until I was packing today – moving it countless times to dust and giving it a passing glance.

The photo was taken in 1998 at a father-daughter dance. Megan was six years old, and Joe was forty-eight. Megan created the one-of-a-kind popsicle stick and button frame with the photo as a gift for Joe for Christmas that year. This morning I texted the photo to Megan, and she told me she remembers this dance with her dad. And now here she is with her very own seven-year-old, Charlotte and almost nine-year-old, Caleb. I know Charlotte, Caleb, Jeremy, and Megan are creating their own favorite family  memories.

I showed the picture to Joe as he needs the reminder that he WAS present in our children’s lives. He sometimes forgets and laments how he could have been a better father. I get to then remind him of how all three call him when they need help as adults and that he was very much present in their childhood lives.

He is the best dad I had ever met prior to our marriage, and he affirmed his status during our marriage. He wasn’t always the most popular dad as he expected them to do their homework, brush their teeth. help with chores, treat people kindly, share, and a litany of other ‘unreasonable’ demands a caring parent would make of their children.

Joe took the kids to the creek almost every weekend, weather permitting, where they would explore the creek banks, small puddles of trapped minnows, and check out dead animal carcasses. Neighbor children and our dog (Simba) often tagged along with the Coehlo crew as well. They came home muddy (usually) and happy (always) from their explorations. This all occurred pre-cell phone days, so we didn’t take pictures. Our kids still talk fondly of Cache Creek adventures.

We also went camping, My favorite camping story is when we took off – no reservations – to go to the South Warner Wilderness in July. Open campsites were available for tent camping at Mill Creek Falls. Mill Creek Falls has 19 single family campsites. We would hike along part of the lake nearby, climb rocks, look at waterfalls, We went for five years in a row. Nate stopped going after a few years because he was a teenager and had other interests that kept him closer to home. The girls loved it though. They often called it their playground.

Trips to the jetty at Doran State Park (Bodega Bay) were another favorite. I would sit on the beach while they rolled up their pant legs and explored the tide pools for the better part of a day. All as happy as they could be.

Not that we had to travel for quality dad time. For two or three years, Joe let the girls dig a big hole in the side yard which they would fill with water and play in. Mud play seemed to be highly rated in our family.

We had more art supplies than most stores, until Michael’s came to town (our kiddoes were grown by then). A typical at home day would be the girls in dad’s old shirts, a plastic tablecloth on the table, and art supplies including clay and watercolors laid out for them to create to their hearts’ content.

And if art wasn’t enough play, there would be something to take apart – old television sets were a favorite.

Reading, a lot of reading, was happening in this house. We liked to sit around when the children were small and take turns reading Shel Silverstein poems aloud. Sometimes the children would pick their favorites to read and other times we’d just randomly read in order with the first person picking the poem they wanted to read until everyone had multiple turns.

Joe read to the children quite a bit. Mostly they would let him read to them until he fell asleep. On more than one occasion they would finish the book themselves. Even after both could read, his reading to them was a nightly ritual.

Wow! So here we are twenty-five years later, packing to move to Minnesota and one small, sweet photo sends me hurtling  down memory lane.