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December 12, 2003

Some little bits of me

I was out golfing in a torrential Pacific Northwest downpour today thinking about two people: my Dad and my daughter. As I trudged through the mud and muck I kept thinking about how much my Dad loved to play this game, how much I love playing it too and--most importantly of all--how I loved to play it with him.

I was twelve when he taught me how to play and for five straight summers I can remember golfing with my Dad every time he had a vacation day and a chance to play. Eighteen holes and then a thick chocolate milkshake and post-game analysis. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a humid summer day. I still can't. We played like that together for twenty-one years until he passed away a couple of years ago.

But there was more than just golf, of course. My Dad was a pool hustler as a teenager so he took a keen interest in teaching me that game as well. We played almost every Saturday afternoon for about 5 years when I was studying for my first degree. Again--like the golf--it was always less about the game and our performance, and more about just spending time together and talking.

While he was thrashing me at pool one particular Saturday afternoon, I can remember him laughing and then--just as a throw-away remark as we were leaving--he made a comment that has stuck in my mind to this day: "You know, Kev, I really do love to look at you and see some little bits of me."

And so, of course, I wonder. What little bits of me will I see in Ella as we both grow older. A love for golf? A penchant for pool? A wry sense of humour? Will she like some of the same writers I do? Will she love a good debate about politics or social issues? Will she get excited when she learns about my massive comic book collection?

Will she look forward to sharing time with me in the same way that I looked forward to sharing time with my Dad?

If there's just one little bit of me--and the Papa she never got to know--to pass along, that is it.

I would have given anything to once--just once--trudge through the mud and muck on my way to a rainsoaked green, my dad walking on one side of me, and my daughter walking on the other.

Posted by go-Daddy-O at 11:59 PM in Reflections | Permalink

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I didn't expect to be up at 6 am this morning, and I certainly didn't expect to be reading last night's post and crying my eyes out. Ella's middle name is Vernon. This may sound like a strange name for [Read More]

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