. . . that I may be writing a lot about my dad--about both parents, actually.
I'm actually doing well. You don't need to worry or anything. But it gives me a lot of pleasure (and some comfort) to think about him and to write down tiny snatches of memory.
Last night Geoff asked me about a certain person. I thought things over and then I said, "Well, you know, he's a different cat."
Geoff laughed because that's what my dad would say sometimes. I've said this about the Coach before, but he was an interesting mix of salt-of-the-earth farm boy and cool rat packer. I can remember him leaning against the bleachers at one of my boy's games, wraparound sunglasses shielding his eyes, and saying about someone we both knew, "Yeah. That guy's a different cat."
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4 comments:
I am almost afraid to say this, but I really, really, really hope you are writing a book about your family. I never met your dad, but I am ready to pre-order my copy right now.
You know I love your writing, so no matter what you write, I know it will be luminous and amazing.
Please keep writing about your dad. I'll read (and buy) anything you write! I'm with you on the comfort thing. Writing about my parents has kept them alive for me.
Well, if he'd been boring, or if you were boring, you might well worry. But that isn't the case. I see the book filling out.
Writing = therapy for the writer and the reader.
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