Sunday, June 20, 2010

Father's Day

I wish I could say a lot about Fathers' Day, regarding my own father and being one myself. This year my own son celebrates this day as a recipient for the first time. However, as they say in Tennessee, I am dog-tired. Denise and I just spent the last few days exploring Vancouver Island's rocky and wind-swept coast by jeep, bike and sea kayak.

Last night we arrived back in civilization, camping in Sidney B.C. and waiting for our morning ferry home. The beach setting was glorious. However, I had the sense that a storm was brewing.

First, about six young attractive women were camping alone a few sites up from us. Then about dusk, several car-loads of young men, each with large brown bags under their arms (that had a jingle of liquid-filled bottles) arrived. I could see the writing on the wall.

All heck broke out about midnight when the inebriated group of about twenty came in from their beach campfire. They were out of control screaming, car racing through the campground, fighting, crying, guys and girls each shouting the "F word" as spacers between all other words. This and who knows what else, continued the next three hours. I was about ready to confront them (but I knew that would not end pretty) or call the police. However, my cell phone was dead.

During my on again, off again contact with REM sleep I had one dream from that insecure place in my soul. I dreamt that it was the end of Fathers' Day, and I had not heard from a single offspring as if it were just another day. But that turned out not to be true. I've heard from 4 out of 5 and the night is not over yet.

The lack of sleep was not a problem as I knew I didn't have to go to work today, plus I had a relaxing two and a half ferry ride ahead where I could catch few Zs. But I've already written more than I had planned and my eyes are slowly closing.

So, out on the very remote and craggy coast of B.C.'s Vancouver Island I spotted the old fir tree stump (pictured at top) acting as the "nursery" for five new fir trees. The tree and its relationship with its offspring captured fatherhood better than I can with words right now.

In honor of my own father here is the link to my old post about him.

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