The Will of My Father

Daddy was a gentle man, and an understanding man. And, despite Mickey's belief to the contrary, Daddy was a forgiving man.

But he was hardly a pushover. In fact, a lot of times I was afraid of him. Not sure why. In my entire life I don't think he struck me more than five times. (Three times with his belt across my butt; once with a switch across my butt; and once with his fist in my face [he was drunk and I was stupid enough to insult him to his face - teenagers].) But years went by between these incidents, and during those years Daddy would laugh, sing, and play games. So why the fear? I guess it was because Daddy had such a commanding presence. Even when he acknowledged someone else's leadership or expertise, it was like Daddy was in charge.

He didn't flaunt this power. In fact, I'm not even sure he knew he had it. But everyone respected him, except Mother's mother, who thought he was a failure because he never went to college (her big failing in my opinion), and Daddy's own relatives, who treated him like he was dirt because he was a b*stard child. We seldom visited Daddy's relatives, and after he died we never did. Not many came to his funeral.

Anyway, when I was young one of my summertime tasks was mowing the yard. It was a big yard, with lots of trees, so mowing was a real pain in the a*s. Some days I didn't mind, but usually I hated it. It always seemed to need to be done when I wanting to be doing something else.

Well, one day I mowed the yard and finished up early. I was pleased with myself for having done it so quickly. But I had only been finished a half hour or so when Daddy called me. He didn't sound happy. I came and he took me to the porch to show me the lawn mower.

"Where is the cap?" he asked me.

I looked. Sure enough, I had forgotten to put the cap back on the mower's fuel tank after refilling it out on the yard. I looked helplessly out to the near acre of land I had mowed. It was somewhere out there.

"Find it."

That was all he said. Then he went back into the house.

I walked about the yard, hoping to see it, but I couldn't find it. So I went back and told him so. He was unmoved.

"It's there. Find it."

I was downcast. How'd he know it was still here? Maybe it had melted into the ground. Maybe a bird took it. Or some gas cap thief who had been waiting for just this chance to take ours. But there was no arguing with Daddy, so I went back out and stood at the yard's edge with tears in my eyes. I could be here for the rest of my life searching for some stupid cap now being sold on the Gas Cap Black Market. But I knew Daddy would not let me off until I had found it. So what to do?

Necessity sometimes makes one's brain actually work. Sometimes it simply creates panic and confusion. But this time I came upon a very methodical, and logical, solution to my problem. The lawn was freshly mowed. That meant the tire tracks were still there, circling the yard in an ever dwindling spiral. All I had to do was "follow the green grass road". So I began where I had begun mowing and started walking.

It was tempting to skip lanes I knew the cap wasn't in, but I didn't. I held my course. Then (very near the end, or course - it's always that way, isn't it) I came upon it, laying quietly in the grass. The gas cap thief must have dropped it while making his escape. I picked it up and brought it in to show Daddy. I was quite pleased with myself. What I found strange was not that he smiled at me, but that he wanted to know how I had found it. What was my method? When I told him he seemed pleased. Then he told me to put the cap back on the mower - and don't do it again!

I never did.

Daddy liked thinking. Intelligent thinking, anyway. Creative thinking. He liked to see his children's brains actually working. I don't think it happened that often, so when he smiled you knew he was really pleased. I liked making Daddy smile.