An Open Apology To My Dad

October 24, 2012 by Rieshy
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When I needed to learn to drive Dad and I got into our 1976 blue Volkswagen Bug; I only made it a quarter of a mile before I jerked the car to a stop and with great noisy gulping sobs refused to go a foot further under my father's tutelage.

Mom taught me to drive.

For all these years I have never thought of my father as a patient man.  Until today.  Today I took my 6 year old to play racquet ball.  My dad taught me to play tennis.  Dad taught all of my siblings how to play tennis even though some of us (me) had absolutely no innate talent.

All I can say is that fetching missed balls in a 20x40 foot racquet ball space has to beat fetching balls in a 120x60 tennis space.

So.... Dad- I'm sorry I never gave you credit for your gargantuan stores of surprising patience.  And thank you for teaching me that if the ball bounced too many times it would turn into a bomb and explode.  My boys find that fun too.



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3 comments:

CristyLynn said...

I love how becoming a parent has taught me so much about my own parents.

Susan Tipton said...

You are so right Cristy!

Rebecca said...

I remember that blue bug very well. I loved that if I stared long enough at the lining of the roof and the little dots would appear to come off the surface. Wierd I know, but I think of that every single time I see an old model bug.

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