It’s Father’s Day today, and I’m sad. I feel rather forlorn. You see, I grew up as a Princess, with all the trappings of a young girl in a magic kingdom. I had an idyllic childhood, full of happy memories in good times and lessons learned in tough times. Everything always turned out okay, and more often than not it felt that way because my Dad was the one to cheer me on or push me on. After all, he was the one who made me a Princess. The problem is, he’s gone now.
I miss my dad every day, but Father’s Day hurts in a special melancholy way. It makes me remember the myriad of things that my Dad taught me, and then the breath catches in my throat as I am struck with not being able to tell him or hug him to say thanks.
I don’t like to dwell on the past – you can’t live there. But I don’t want to forget “wonderful Daddy from Winnipeg” , as we used to joke should be his title. So if you’ll indulge me, I’m going to mention some of my favourite memories and learnings:
- Waking up to music he would play… I had a turntable in my bedroom and he would come down and put a record on to wake me up for school. Billy Joel, The Eagles, Supertramp, Neil Diamond, Nilsson. I still love “Dad rock”, as all that music is now labelled.
- Watching CBS Sunday Morning, together and then separately when I was older, but still sharing our love for the good news and the quirky discoveries in the world. I still watch, and often smile at stories I know he would have enjoyed.
- Marching to “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” – through the house, pretending to be like Mickey Mouse with his broom.. The whole family would march in a line, my brother and I swinging our imaginary brooms with great fervor and my Mom bringing up the rear (to make sure things didn’t get too crazy). We’d go down the hall and over their bed, even. It makes me smile every time I think of it.
- Eating the fried egg sandwiches he used to make me before early morning high school basketball practice. I wish now I had practiced even harder. I wish I’d known then that stronger arms would have helped my shot. But he cheered me on through my clutziness, and even bought season tickets to the Vancouver Grizzlies’ inaugural season years later, so we could watch games live. I travelled from Calgary whenever I could, and we saw Michael Jordan play!
- His sayings still get me through tough days – “Illegitimum non carborundum est” (don’t let the bastards get you down) and “optireculitis” (a condition in which your optical nerve gets tangled with your rectum, giving you a shitty outlook) . When I felt as though the world was against me, he would always say, “Who loves you, Kricky? Your Daddy does.”
- Our trip to Maui was full of great memories and lots of laughter. He hadn’t been well and the quality time was good for both of us. I was so chuffed when one of the last times we spoke he talked of how great that trip was…
- The Treehouse Bistro, which was the 2 directors chairs at the corner window in his West End apartment, was the place we solved all the problems of the world on many a Friday night. Now I have the chairs, and every time I sit in one I think of our great ideas, and the spectacular meals we ate in them.
- “Where’s the other 2 percent ?” – the answer to my declaration that I got 98% on a test at school. Then it was frustrating to be teased, but it made me tough enough to take the blows the world dealt me, and it made me want to push myself and improve.
- “Drive till you get there”. Learning to drive, a standard no less, was stress at a new level with my dad, who was an RCMP officer for a time as a young man. Thanks for keeping me safe, Daddy.
- “If you got it, flaunt it”. This wasn’t meant to be trashy, but rather to encourage my self-confidence. My dad knew I was the not the kind of kid who fit in, and he more than anyone helped me learn to be myself, and be proud of that.
- “Take 10 pictures for every one you want. Film is cheap.” Nowadays it’s even cheaper with digital pics, and I’m thankful to have memories recorded. I wish I had copies of more of my childhood photos!
I could go on, but perhaps the most important thing I learned, ironically, came from the fact that he got sick. For many years the doctors predicted he didn’t have long to live, so my dad did not sit back to save for a rainy day. He lived the Carpe Diem philosophy to the fullest he could. It shaped my life, and has been my motivation to strive for that balance in life we all hope to have.
I so wish we’d had more time together. But I am so thankful for all that I got from my dad. I might be a Princess without a kingdom but I am still a Princess. I can still flaunt it, I can still battle the dragons, I can still reach for my happily ever after. I know somewhere there is a soul out there smiling proudly. Who loves you, Daddy? Your Kricky Princess, that’s who.
Today would have been my Dad’s 74th birthday. He passed away almost 10 years ago, but every year on his birthday especially, my thoughts are of him. He and I were close, and some of my favourite quirky food memories are of times with him. So it seemed only fitting that today’s entry would be in his honour…
When I was a kid, my diet started out with rather small parameters. My mom says I used to eat mostly fruit as a baby, and that sausages were one of the first – and only – proteins I liked. I did get over that picky stage, but we were a Prairie family and my dad was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy back in those days. My mom cooked what he liked. Pork chops and applesauce, or meatloaf with mashed potatoes and turnips were regular stand-bys. My dad’s contribution was the traditional grilling component: he did cook a mean steak, and he mastered vegetables in a tinfoil package with butter and herbs, steamed over the coals. (I still love doing these with steaks in the summer.)
I was a baker long before I was a cook, but my dad never had much of a sweet tooth. He loved a good cookie (not too crunchy, of course – we agreed on that) In true Prairie fashion he also loved apple pie, with a slice of cheddar cheese. But his favourite dessert was jelly roll.
When I was a teenager, my parents took a trip to California. After that, food changed. All of a sudden we were having nachos with salsa, and eating more fish. Then the stuffing for the turkey at Christmas had nuts, and there was no going back. By the time I was an adult, my mom could cook anything and he would try it. My dad had started to cook and even bought cookbooks. He made salads with dried cranberries and toasted pecans, veal piccata, ice cream sundaes.
My favourite foodie memories with my dad are in the years when I was first married, and we both lived in Vancouver. My hubbie was working some nights and so Daddy and I had a standing date on Friday for appies and drinks. We would while away the evening over tidbits he had made and wine I had brought. Our conversations ranged from trivial tidbits to solving the problems of the world. I would often bring dessert, as I was working at Senses, a gourmet food store and bakery that featured the treasures of Thomas Haas. My dad finally gave up jelly roll as his favourite dessert, replacing it with Thomas’ Stilton Cheesecake with Rhubarb Compote.
In later years, we didn’t get to share many meals between the miles and my dad’s ill health. I am very grateful we shared so many memories for me to enjoy. Every time I taste jelly roll, or salad with dried cranberries and toasted pecans, I think of him. When I taste something new and exotic, I smile and think of how he would have enjoyed it.
I’m also due for a piece of Stilton cheesecake on my next visit to Vancouver. Just for old time’s sake.
My dad always made a big deal about drinking his coffee in a “real cup”. He would never visit Starbucks because they only offered “to go” cups and he was NOT going to bring his own cup if he had to pay for the coffee. I used to think he was just getting to be an old-fashioned curmudgeon. Now that I’m sitting here with my delicious latte in a ceramic mug and homemade banana bread I completely understand what he meant.
Perhaps part of my understanding comes from not having my dad around to share a coffee anymore. I value highly all those coffee breaks we did get. He left us far too soon; I had so many more conversations in me to have over so many more cups of coffee.
I went to see “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel” at the theatre this past week – it was delightful, full of one-liners uttered by wise old characters who know how absurd the world can be. The best line of all was “the best present is time”. So true.
So, I’m taking this moment … To remember my wonderful Daddy and to leave you with my thoughts 🙂 Take a moment for yourself soon, even if you feel you have to steal it. It’s the best present you can give yourself and your loved ones.
And thanks to Giobean Cafe in Kelowna for the wonderful coffee and goodies. My Dad would have loved you guys.
Today would have been my Dad’s 70th birthday. He is gone now, but if he was around I think he would have hoped to have a big celebration for what he called the start of his New Year. Birthday parties were a big deal when I was a kid, and my parents did a bang-up job of creating wonderful celebrations.
One year, I remember we had a party for my little brother in our rec room, which was the funky space downstairs with a mural wall that included the family dog, a huge tree in the corner with Impressionist leaves, and a giant flower. We didn’t play any mundane games like Pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey at the Peturson house… we played “Pin the bee on the flower”. Can you tell my parents were hippies?
When my brother and I got older, the family went for dinner at a restaurant to celebrate. I don’t mean White Spot or Swiss Chalet; we went to places that served savoury crepes or Spanish paella and caesar salad made at the table. My parents enjoyed wine, and we got to try things like mussels or lamb. Talk about feeling spoiled on your special day!
Years later, my Dad and I enjoyed a fabulous vacation in Maui, and food was one of our favourite memories from that trip.
We had our server prepare crepes at the table for us, and he was brilliant in his presentation. He decorated my crepe so that it had chocolate sauce wings with fruit coulis patterns and whip cream “fuzz” over the crepe body. Then he prepared my Dad’s crepe with more mottled colours, and for the piece de resistance, threw the spoonful of whipped cream on the plate and said, “Oh darn, your bug hit a windshield.” My Dad laughed till tears rolled down his cheeks. We talked about that dinner till the day he died.
Interestingly enough, though, my Dad did like comfort food even after years of expanding his food horizons beyond the meat and potatoes of his prairie childhood. His favourite dessert was jelly roll, and it was one of the first desserts I learned to make, in his honour. It was one of my first real accomplishments in life, to flip that pan and then roll that sponge with the filling inside with enough confidence not to blow it 🙂
So, here’s to you Daddy. Thanks for all the great memories, and for reminding me that birthdays deserve to be celebrated in grand style.
My Dad was a fellow who loved life. He had his foibles, as any of his friends would gladly tell you, but he certainly enjoyed sharing a good time. Food and drink were always an important part of our family life as I grew up, and once my parents discovered the range of foods available with expanding grocery stores and their own travels, this “meat-and-potatoes” guy was born again.
Today would have been by Dad’s 69th birthday. He died a few years ago, but I still think of him often, and always when I am enjoying a special food experience. Some of my favourite memories are from Friday nights we used to share at his Treetop Bistro (the corner table at the window of his 3rd floor apartment in downtown Vancouver, amongst the branches of overgrown greenery). We sampled Stilton cheesecake with rhubarb sauce, we created pork skewers with a piquant Asian sticky BBQ sauce, we paired obscure wines from the south of France and Tasmania with our delicacies. We also solved the problems of the world, and laughed and toasted our successes.
I shall raise a glass in Daddy’s honour tonight at dinner, and I vow always to remember to taste every mouthful of life to the fullest. I have posted one of his favourite recipes if you want to join in the celebration – Jelly Roll was what we always made for his birthday.