Friday, June 17, 2005
Buger's Dad
I'm not sure where the name came from, but all of my life I have been called "sugar-Buger" by one of the sweetest, most generous men in the entire world...my Dad. Actually, there are about a thousand things he called me, but that one is probably not only one of the grossest names that I have ever been called, but also one of the fondest. (Every once in a while he still calls me this. I'm 36.) I've often wondered if the nickname corresponded directly with the statement he has often made that as a child he wanted to hug me and spank me all at the same time. He loves my brother and I very much, I know, but he has told me on several occasions that as teenagers he wished that he could have put us into suspended animation until the time when we would be able to be out on our own.
Dad worked very hard to make sure our lives were good. When I was 12, my parents divorced, and we were left in the custody of Dad. It wasn't easy for him, even though we were "good" kids. He worked with Northwest Alloys, a division of ALCOA in Washington State, and his hours were long and tiring. To this day, I am still not sure exactly WHAT he did at work. I just know that he'd worked himself almost to death by the time he retired. He never missed a day of work and owing to his twenty years in the air force, he was NEVER late on the job. Dad is one of the most integral people I know, and he would give you the shirt off his back if he knew it made you warm. I had heard from other people about a time when he'd saved the life of another worker at Northwest Alloys. Dad was a strong man in his prime. He still is. He is now 76, and goes to the gym every morning. He mows his own lawn...and everyone else's (because he feels like it).
One of my greatest memories with Dad were the many concerts he took me to, fueling my love for music. Dad is one of the biggest country fans, and when I was a kid, I had the great fortune of seeing some of the biggest names in country music on the stage...Loretta Lynn, Charlie Pride, Faron Young, to name a few. (I can still remember the yellow dress Loretta was wearing the day we sat in the front row at a Spokane concert. I was only about 12, but that was a great moment in my life.) We would often sit together listening to records of such legends as Hank Williams and Jim Reeves, Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole, Mario Lanza and Pavarotti. And then we would discuss them. Dad had quite a lot to do with my love of music and my eventual decision to pursue it.
I could go on for days about my father. There is just so much that is positive to say about him, and I count myself among the lucky to have been given a father like mine. He has so many characteristic quirks, (that as a teenager I would have called faults), such as the "monkey stance", when he would lean over with one hand hanging down to his side and the other one scratching his head while he rolled his eyes upward and pursed his lips in the imitation of a baboon. The "monkey stance" embarrassed me completely when I was young, but now it delights my children and makes me laugh. If only I could have realized in my youth how precious those embarrassing things that my parents did really were, I wouldn't have been half as hard on my parents. (So, of course, I tell my children that it is my JOB to embarrass them and that there isn't a thing that can be done to stop me.)
I wish for my Father a beautiful Father's Day. Unfortunately, as he doesn't believe that computers actually exist, he will not be able to read this. Perhaps I will simply have to call him up and remind him of all those sweet moments of Fatherhood when he had to teach me to clean house or drive me to Jazz Choir rehearsals, and somewhere in our conversation he will call me "sugar-Buger" and I will smile.
Dad worked very hard to make sure our lives were good. When I was 12, my parents divorced, and we were left in the custody of Dad. It wasn't easy for him, even though we were "good" kids. He worked with Northwest Alloys, a division of ALCOA in Washington State, and his hours were long and tiring. To this day, I am still not sure exactly WHAT he did at work. I just know that he'd worked himself almost to death by the time he retired. He never missed a day of work and owing to his twenty years in the air force, he was NEVER late on the job. Dad is one of the most integral people I know, and he would give you the shirt off his back if he knew it made you warm. I had heard from other people about a time when he'd saved the life of another worker at Northwest Alloys. Dad was a strong man in his prime. He still is. He is now 76, and goes to the gym every morning. He mows his own lawn...and everyone else's (because he feels like it).
One of my greatest memories with Dad were the many concerts he took me to, fueling my love for music. Dad is one of the biggest country fans, and when I was a kid, I had the great fortune of seeing some of the biggest names in country music on the stage...Loretta Lynn, Charlie Pride, Faron Young, to name a few. (I can still remember the yellow dress Loretta was wearing the day we sat in the front row at a Spokane concert. I was only about 12, but that was a great moment in my life.) We would often sit together listening to records of such legends as Hank Williams and Jim Reeves, Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole, Mario Lanza and Pavarotti. And then we would discuss them. Dad had quite a lot to do with my love of music and my eventual decision to pursue it.
I could go on for days about my father. There is just so much that is positive to say about him, and I count myself among the lucky to have been given a father like mine. He has so many characteristic quirks, (that as a teenager I would have called faults), such as the "monkey stance", when he would lean over with one hand hanging down to his side and the other one scratching his head while he rolled his eyes upward and pursed his lips in the imitation of a baboon. The "monkey stance" embarrassed me completely when I was young, but now it delights my children and makes me laugh. If only I could have realized in my youth how precious those embarrassing things that my parents did really were, I wouldn't have been half as hard on my parents. (So, of course, I tell my children that it is my JOB to embarrass them and that there isn't a thing that can be done to stop me.)
I wish for my Father a beautiful Father's Day. Unfortunately, as he doesn't believe that computers actually exist, he will not be able to read this. Perhaps I will simply have to call him up and remind him of all those sweet moments of Fatherhood when he had to teach me to clean house or drive me to Jazz Choir rehearsals, and somewhere in our conversation he will call me "sugar-Buger" and I will smile.
