I grew up an only child. This may have induced a small bit of loneliness from time to time, but mostly I think it created a healthy imagination and independence. When I did need a playmate, however, there was only one man for the job: My daddy.
Today would have been his 85th birthday, which is a little hard to imagine. He was older than most fathers, but that never stopped him from stepping readily into the land of make-believe to play with a small girl whenever she required his attention. For some reason, I had taken up a game in which my toys would ski down a snowy hill (a white pillow) for the entertainment of other toys. Because this was a spectator sport, obviously there were refreshments served. Not popcorn, peanuts, or hot dogs, though. Naturally, banana bread was served at this venue. Because hot, fresh banana bread should always be available at winter sports. You know this to be true.
(Author's note: I'm not entirely sure I even liked banana bread at this point in my life)
Over time the entire game became known as "banana bread" and all I would have to say to my dad was "Do you want to play banana bread?" It would have made no sense at all to anyone else, but the two of us knew what it meant. It was like a secret code, and later in life became an inside joke.
As my husband and I prepare for the imminent arrival of our own daughter, I think often on the relationship between father and daughter. I think there is something remarkably special between a father and his little girl, a little girl and her father. To me there was nobody smarter or stronger, braver or funnier, than my dad. He was simultaneously the hand of justice while also the voice of reason. And of course, the only person who truly understood "banana bread." I can only hope we share something so silly with our little girl.
So on your birthday, Daddy, we toast you again with our Dairy Queen Blizzards. I know you're enjoying all the chocolate malts you can handle!
Today would have been his 85th birthday, which is a little hard to imagine. He was older than most fathers, but that never stopped him from stepping readily into the land of make-believe to play with a small girl whenever she required his attention. For some reason, I had taken up a game in which my toys would ski down a snowy hill (a white pillow) for the entertainment of other toys. Because this was a spectator sport, obviously there were refreshments served. Not popcorn, peanuts, or hot dogs, though. Naturally, banana bread was served at this venue. Because hot, fresh banana bread should always be available at winter sports. You know this to be true.
(Author's note: I'm not entirely sure I even liked banana bread at this point in my life)
Over time the entire game became known as "banana bread" and all I would have to say to my dad was "Do you want to play banana bread?" It would have made no sense at all to anyone else, but the two of us knew what it meant. It was like a secret code, and later in life became an inside joke.
As my husband and I prepare for the imminent arrival of our own daughter, I think often on the relationship between father and daughter. I think there is something remarkably special between a father and his little girl, a little girl and her father. To me there was nobody smarter or stronger, braver or funnier, than my dad. He was simultaneously the hand of justice while also the voice of reason. And of course, the only person who truly understood "banana bread." I can only hope we share something so silly with our little girl.
So on your birthday, Daddy, we toast you again with our Dairy Queen Blizzards. I know you're enjoying all the chocolate malts you can handle!
