No use being mopey. Doesn’t get you far. I often think what dad went through on a daily basis. Without a complaint.
The stroke struck unexpectedly when he was 44 years-old. It left him paralyzed on his left side. Unable to speak. The speech returned over time but the mobility never did. He carried on.
Friday nights were social. The gents would drop round for a glass or two. Shoot the shit. Filled with jokes. Lots of lively laughter.
When it came to family, Saturday’s were so called the “Saturburger.” It was lunch somewhere with a burger - a round table. Anecdotes of dad pour through my head. Pitty the poor waitresses who had to serve him.
“Would you like white or whole wheat sir?” The answer a sober, “Yes please.” Just to piss them off. The British sense of humour was seldom understood.
Not sure of the entire origin of the The Cheshire Cat but it seemed it was something he lived by. Mum framed it and gave it to all of us along with a few close friends. Dad was from Cheshire, England.
The Cheshire Cat
When this you see, remember me
And bear me in your mind.
Let all the World, say what they will.
Speak of me as you find.
It’s always in view. Wherever I’ve gone. Today as I grunted bent over backwards varnishing a boat one of his often repeated one-liners popped into my head:
Do what you like, but like what you do.
Okay, dad. Time to switch paths and take maybe a sharp left.