On the long drive back, we decided that what my father is lacking is grace and a sense of humility. I wonder if I have any. As kids we were taught to send thank you notes to relatives after they had come for a visit bringing gifts. I doubt, I'll ever get one from him. When I phoned after we returned home, he quickly noted that I had already been back for almost 24 hours.
Anyway, he lives in a pleasant place with great facilities. He spends a lot of his time looking for someone to blame for the fact that he can no longer walk. We covered my brother, my sister, and also my neglect, but as I had brought a splendid cake, he eventually settled on the surgeon (who saved his leg).
The Franconian sky was beautiful when we stopped for our al fresco lunch on the way. I had forgotten to pack mugs, so we drank the coffee straight from the flask while the skylarks were singing their hearts out.
9 comments:
So much history in Europe. Just as much history here though white folk don't count what came before us. We certainly don't learn that this continent was not empty but well settled with thriving communities, trade, and laws even though our own founding documents borrowed heavily from the First Nations.
My mother was a complainer. Whichever one of us she was talking to, the other two were a litany of grief. So duty done, let him roll off your back.
I find as people age, they become more like teenagers and then children, more self centered, more liable to blurt things out that they might have said twenty years ago. My mum was the same, always hurt by her children, especially her daughter with the brain injury. When my sister and my mum were together it was a mess with both of them saying the most outrageous things to each other.
I didn't know that the skies in Germany resembled our own skies here so much. Beautiful photos.
Good to know you and R are safe at home again and that your father appreciated the splendid cake. Such extraordinary beauty on your way to and from. Thank you so much for sharing those photos.
What beautiful skies. A change of scenery is always welcome and coming home again is sweet when we’ve been away. You dad is your dad. I’m reminded of the adage that no expectations means no disappointment. I wonder if that’s really true.
Please forgive me if this is out of line but your father sounds like a Class A narcissist. Try and follow Ellen's advice.
Look at those beautiful skies. What your father says and thinks does not affect them at all nor should it.
I love seeing the skies there, so beautiful. A perfect balance to complicated family relationships. You are a kind daughter, Sabine.
Beautiful pictures! It sounds like your father is feeling sorry for himself. I think what Pixie said above is true -- people lose their filters as they age and become more petulant and juvenile.
My deepest congratulations on this post: although short it has width and depth that are commendable. You've tackled your father in prose before and I fear I have enjoyed what your sharp eyes and ears have observed. But here you go further. You are right to question whether you too might lack grace and a sense of humility even though I can assure you that you are protected from such potential lapses by the very objectivity you show here and in other stuff you have written in the past. In short, you are equally objective about yourself. And I might add about me on one of two occasions, bringing me up with a jolt. Which is another way of saying I probably deserved it.
Continue to question yourself; you never know what your father may have blessed you with genetically, so stay alert. That's irony, just in case you missed it. More particularly it is important that your posts don't become A Threnody Composed by an Undutiful Daughter. Not that I'm teaching you to suck eggs. It's clear you've recognised that possibility - hence the digression which addresses the drama and beauty of Franconian skies.
I am a fan of Franconia but, alas, for a trivial, even ignoble reason. It's the only German wine I can stand. Yes, yes, I know all about Riesling and Müller Thurgau and once I had a glass of Jahrhundertswein in circumstances that were positively sacerdotal. But at a very early age my father, whom I didn't get on with for most of his life, exposed me to wines from The Big Five vineyards in Bordeaux and the sensation has never truly died away.
And if anything in this comment disturbs or irrritates you, read it again, more carefully. This is in the nature of a fan letter.
Amazing photos. The clouds could be a poster or a painting.
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