re-dad

this is my Dad again. he and Mom left today--I took this right before we headed out the door to the airport, in fact. I would have Blipped them both but all of those shots were blurry or just generally unsatisfying (this, in turn, led me to browse lenses on the internets for the last hour since i got back from the airport). thus, a Blip of just dad, Barney. one of the great things i love about my dad is his ability to tell a story. nothing adorned or fanciful (this corresponds to his humble nature i'd alluded to earlier), in fact he tells stories very much like one of his favorite writers, Hemingway. something that really struck me was a story about when he was stationed in Italy when i was 6mo. to 3 years old (my sister would have been 4-7, roughly). he told me this story about how we went to visit a local circus, kind of out in the country, away from the city. nothing too big, very local scale. a troupe of these Italian clowns with their face paints and wacky clothes came out and there was, apparently, this very rotundly demanding clown of the bunch. a real fat one. he had this tiny trumpet (or it just looked tiny because he was so big, my dad mused) and he just started blowing madly, all of these obnoxious noises, just a pure cacophony. then, i guess, the clown goes out into the audience and shushes everyone, with what i imagined as an overly dramatic hushing motion, a cartoony index finger to the lips. then the crowd gets eerily silent (my interpretation?) and proceeds to play "Strangers in the Night," which, according to my dad, was the best rendition he has ever heard, then or now. the crowd was captivated, deathly quiet, and utterly rapt on this clown's every note, every thoughtful motion.

i had never heard this story until yesterday (and I ask about Italy often as i was too young to recall barely a thing). but he does this often, my dad, surprises us with a story never before heard. maybe it seems even more significant becuase he is notorious for repeating the same stories month after month, year and year (too many examples to cite here, too many things brightly vague and detailed all at the same time). so, all this sometimes leads me to fantasize that he is making them up just for us on the spot, a la The Usual Suspects ending. and if he wasn't so damn honest and truthful and moral all the time i would actually think this would be the case.

so, yes, what an excellent visit, all of it. last night we had an incredible dinner at Lilli's Bistro, some French fusion place Leah and I never would have been able to go to on our own. check out this album (more photos uploading tonight, if you give a shit) to see mom eating a flower which appears to be an orchid (she insisted they were edible and she is a wonderful gardener, neighbors from all around applaud her floral efforts, or did last summer. with her new ailment she has done little to no gardening this year, it sounds like).

i need a bike ride and a beer, in either order. ah fuck, i have to work tomorrow and Sunday and these thoughts haunt me. Leah just got home. thank god for this, thank god for the families we have, we've made, we will make.