Very well said! Dad was a behind the scenes Dad with not much input on our athletic endeavors! But, if anything was evident it was his pride in his children!
I miss Him more and more every day! I miss His glee at beating me in horseshoes or cards! He was defiantly a unique person, and I loved Him for that!
Just last week, probably because of the cornhole game that was near, I remembered horseshoes for the first time in a LOOONG time. I had forgotten about horseshoes and Dad’s love for that game. He taught us all horseshoes (okay, granted, not THAT difficult of a game to teach…but to master???). One of my fondest memories I’ve been reflecting on this past week about that experience was remembering the zone he would go into when he played. There was no “okay, I’ll let you win this time just to humor you” kind of thing that some dad’s do to encourage their sons. I remember Dad became so focused (we call it “in the flow” nowadays) that his only goal was to throw ringers each and every time. No matter who he was tossing against—not even the five year old me whose only goal was to get the toss at least 10 feet further. (I remember Dad would allow us to scoot up a little toward the other goal—perhaps his only concession to humor or encourage us). And yes, there was glee—that characteristic twinkle in his eyes. Always. Thanks for that Clary!
And then I wondered why he didn’t bring horseshoes with him to the home in Moxee from Toppenish. I vaguely remembered he set one up out by the gas tank—but he never really played much after our move. And in so doing, or rather not doing, we lost a moment to witness that form of glee from him. Sigh….😮💨
Very well said! Dad was a behind the scenes Dad with not much input on our athletic endeavors! But, if anything was evident it was his pride in his children!
I miss Him more and more every day! I miss His glee at beating me in horseshoes or cards! He was defiantly a unique person, and I loved Him for that!
Just last week, probably because of the cornhole game that was near, I remembered horseshoes for the first time in a LOOONG time. I had forgotten about horseshoes and Dad’s love for that game. He taught us all horseshoes (okay, granted, not THAT difficult of a game to teach…but to master???). One of my fondest memories I’ve been reflecting on this past week about that experience was remembering the zone he would go into when he played. There was no “okay, I’ll let you win this time just to humor you” kind of thing that some dad’s do to encourage their sons. I remember Dad became so focused (we call it “in the flow” nowadays) that his only goal was to throw ringers each and every time. No matter who he was tossing against—not even the five year old me whose only goal was to get the toss at least 10 feet further. (I remember Dad would allow us to scoot up a little toward the other goal—perhaps his only concession to humor or encourage us). And yes, there was glee—that characteristic twinkle in his eyes. Always. Thanks for that Clary!
And then I wondered why he didn’t bring horseshoes with him to the home in Moxee from Toppenish. I vaguely remembered he set one up out by the gas tank—but he never really played much after our move. And in so doing, or rather not doing, we lost a moment to witness that form of glee from him. Sigh….😮💨
My Dad and I never “ had a catch” either.