Everything I Know: A New Series

I was driving to town today and had an idea.  It was so compelling that I pulled over to the shoulder of the road and dug into my bag for paper and pen so I could write it down.  In case you haven’t noticed, I am a fiend about education.  I welcome opportunities to learn, and I think that most of the more interesting and capable people I have experienced approach new knowledge welcomingly. 

 

I’m not talking about school.  To me, education takes many forms and happens in a myriad of places.  What amazes me is that there are many skills and subjects that have been taught to me by specific individuals, and I remember them well.  For some reason, learning experiences are memories that are well-marked in my cranial maze, and I can often trace the path from a lesson to the effects it has had on my life. 

 

This may sound like I’m about to get really deep, but I’m thinking of lessons that range from how to cut meat on your plate, to how to use a microscope, to how to comb your hair.  I am so process-oriented that I enjoy the recall of simple stuff like that.  Not only do I enjoy it, but I want to write it down.  Tonight I am setting up the birth of the “All I Know About…” series.  In each entry, I will choose a specific skill or body of knowledge and tell you about how I learned it.  And maybe, about why I learned it and what it means to me. 

 

There’s other stuff on my mind.  I spent yesterday afternoon with my daddy.  He was at home, sitting in his recliner, fully dressed but wrapped in two afghans, watching television.  His caretaker was with him, mostly for company, but also to provide a bit of watchfulness.  When my dad gets bored, he can get into things without realizing that he no longer has the strength or endurance to handle them.  Without turning off the tv, Daddy turned his full attention to me as son as I arrived.  We had only talked on the phone for several weeks.  He asked about most of the people (and dogs) in my life, and about my health, and my car.  He brought up some occurrences from my childhood, things that I don’t remember hearing about.  It was nice to know he had specific memories of me, separate from his whole brood of daughters.  All my life I’ve been known as one of “the Woods girls”, and I like to be assured that he could tell the difference. 

 

My daddy likes to maintain some control where he can, since he is ninety, and has lost some of the abilities and associations that he treasured.  Yesterday he was fussing about the choice of dinner, and saying he didn’t plan to eat “that stuff” because he had been hoping for fried chicken.  I offered to go out and get fried chicken from the nearest fast food source, and he was thrilled.  When I prepared to make the food run, he said “I’ll come with you,” and was up in a flash, putting on his jacket. 

 

We had a great time, driving through the neighborhood and down the main thoroughfare, looking for chicken and talking.  He complimented my driving, something that made me feel very good.  He’s always had strict standards about handling “an automobile”, as he always calls them.  Looking for that kind of approval makes me feel like a child again.  Well, hell, I am a child-his child.  That never changes.  This morning he called me before 8:30, checking on me and telling me how much he enjoyed my visit yesterday.  I am still in a good mood, recalling our afternoon together.

Peace.

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2 Responses

  1. Great idea for a new series….One I will be very interested to read about. You have taught or aided in so much of my learning during the past decade. Glad to hear about your dad!

  2. I’m really looking forward to your new series! What a fantastic idea.

    Glad to hear about your dad. It’s great that you were able to spend some time together – and share the fried chicken!

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