Memorial Day (Looking Back and Forward)

MAY 30, 2016 IN GENERAL

I actually began this post with my “Monday” entry on my ArtSoulWine Facebook page last night. Today is Memorial Day, and many Americans are remembering loved ones who died in service or who were war veterans. But also in my head is a phrase to which I am clinging right now: “Don’t look back. You aren’t going that way.” Dichotomy is a constant companion in my life.

I have had better days—and years—but, in a “doctor, heal thyself” tone, I tell my tired reflection in the mirror that this is only temporary, that good things are coming any minute now. I ask, “How can it get better than this?” I expend my energy not only seeking opportunities and brainstorming possibilities, but trying to remain focused on tasks I can do today in manifesting my New Life. Daydreaming into the past would be easy. I had a growing photography business; people sought me out for freelance projects; I did what I loved in a place I loved. Previous to that I had a job with “purpose” where I felt like what I did had a positive impact even if in some small way. Not only that, but I made enough money to live. 

But life today is different, and there have been twists and turns on the path from there to here that have brought me to the edge of this cliff. Only lessons I’ve learned along the way can help me. Dwelling on what used to be or what might have been cannot. As Stephen King said, “Some memories were all right, but others were dangerous.” I place one foot in front of the other, one stumble from a fall.

One detour, of course, was moving to Ohio to take care of my parents. My father was a Korean War veteran, and, as I thought about remembrance and Memorial Day, I started searching for the photo album from his time there. He was in the US Army, drove a Jeep and was an instructor of some kind in the field. While he gave us anecdotes about various incidents and a puppy that showed up at the camp and that he adopted, he did not otherwise interact with other veterans or want to discuss his time there. He left what he could overseas, though it seems there was pain that stayed with him. He saw no reason to call that up.  

Back to the album. I felt sick to my stomach as I went through boxes and bins. I unfortunately left some things in Ohio when I came to New York and was worried that somehow this had missed the moving van. Taken more than a decade before the days of television war coverage and eons before social media, the photos chronicle parts of the daily life of a soldier: a Jeep stuck in a flood, a burning hillside, loading machine guns, camps, the aftermath of a bombing, reading a letter from home. The album is something that meant a lot to my father, and I began feeling a loss of history and letting my father down as I turned up nothing in the house. 

Today I found it in a small box in the garage (audible gasp of relief.) Why was this so important to me? I am a pacifist to the core. Do no harm. I think it was the “human-ness” and humbleness of the photos, taken from the eyes of a small-town boy from Ohio. There are most certainly other families that have albums like this. How many of the men laughing or staring tentatively into the camera lens didn’t make it home? That is what my father wouldn’t talk about. 

In my current frame of mind, trying to stay present and look forward, I wonder what this album and this Memorial Day is telling me. We can express our gratitude and honor our loved ones’ service and courage every day, not just one. But the message that really comes through is about not dwelling on anger and the evils and human sacrifices of war and conflict, but refocusing on thoughts and prayers for tolerance and understanding and sending those out into the Universe, becoming peace within for peace all around.

I (or we) need to do what we can do today to manifest a better tomorrow and better life for all of us.  

(My father, William Ault, seated third from the left)

(There is also a metal box with 35mm slides, meticulously marked with descriptions. I'll have to get out the slide viewer to see these.)

("It sure is a long way..." He was homesick and quite ill on the ship)

Archeology

SEPTEMBER 01, 2014 IN GENERAL

I worked on the house this weekend. My brother had to postpone coming down until next weekend, but, since it was my first weekend at home in awhile, I took advantage. I accomplished about two-thirds of what I wanted to do, but that’s okay. I’ll keep moving my parents’ things into the basement and moving my things upstairs. This will clear out rooms and closets (I hope,) as I get ready for the next steps. There is just too much stuff of theirs and mine.

I want to bring a desk upstairs, but a living room loveseat will have to go. I cleaned out six of the seven drawers in the desk on Saturday. The last drawer is stuck, and I’ll have to keep chiseling away at it. The photos show what is making this clear out a monumental task: all kinds of bits and pieces, random papers, obsolete paraphernalia. It all appears in every drawer in dressers, chests, envelopes and boxes.

This assortment includes normal desk supplies with a china hand that belonged to a now-unknown knick-knack; screwdrivers, screwdriver parts, a folding ruler, a classic flashlight and a toothbrush; boxes of razor blades and rubber bands sold by the pound (still usable;) family history that starts with my great, great-grandparents and ends with my mother’s handwritten memories for a reunion and a stray puzzle piece.

Is there anything more endearing than children’s art? My brother’s class (kindergarten or first grade, I think) sent some cheery notes to my father, who was in the hospital with a kidney infection a few days before Thanksgiving. Many have flowers or cars or turkeys, but one of these has a “pome,” another has a penny as a present, and my brother crafted his own card for “Mr. Ault.”

The excavation continues.

Fathers Day 2014

JUNE 15, 2014 IN TIMES LEADER

Following these photos is an article from yesterday’s Times Leader about dads. I interviewed four fathers to find out their perspectives on what being a dad means. They also answer the eternal question of what fathers really want for Father’s Day.

This is my first Father’s Day without mine. The photos are some that I’ve found in drawers: one of the only existing of him as a boy; a picture of him in the Salvation Army band where his lifelong love of music and playing the guitar began; his US Army portrait as he went off to the Korean War; his beloved Chevy Corvair, white with red interior. The "ZAQ" license plate was his throughout my lifetime.

One of my favorite photos of my dad was the very first photo I ever took. My 4-year old self asked if I could take one with his 35mm Kodak Retina. He said yes! I gingerly held the camera pointed it up at him and pressed the shutter button. I was hooked. Maybe I’ll be able to post that one next year.

Happy Father’s Day to my friends and relatives, wherever you are.  May you spend the day with people you love, cold beverages and a good baseball game.

Dads about Dads

By GLYNIS VALENTI Times Leader Staff Writer

Father’s Day is a relatively new holiday, signed into law by President Richard Nixon in 1972. It’s one of the top four holidays for the greeting card industry, with 95 million cards sold in 2010. The necktie industry has also benefited, and, cliché as it may be, ties were still the most common Father’s Day gifts in recent years.

                What do fathers really want for Father’s Day? More importantly, what do they want for their children? What have they learned from their own fathers? This writer interviewed four dads who confirm that fatherhood is more than biology.

How have your parents influenced you?

David B. (father of 3:) I think my parents have a strong sense of right and wrong, and they didn't compromise. I guess that makes them "strict," but I prefer to think of it as holding firm to convictions. I see that in me.

Larry M. (father of 4, grandfather of 5:) I was blessed with unbelievable parents. My mother was always in my corner, whether I was right or I was wrong. She always fought for me. Dad always took time out of his busy schedule to talk to me and guide me. I worked the farm with him, so farming gave me the opportunity to spend more time with him than other people might have with their fathers. He also knew when to hold back. He allowed you to make mistakes without letting you get hurt.

Kelly M. (father of 3 plus 3 step-children from a second marriage, grandfather of 2:) My parents divorced when I was 2 years old. My dad did what he could—coached my little league teams, showed up to my games. There was a big age difference, and my older brother and sister were pretty much out of the house by the time I was 6. My mother raised us until that point by herself. Even so, my family was always close, getting together for all the holidays and birthdays. We’ve always been a strong family unit.

Ken S. (father of 2, grandfather of 4:) I had excellent, excellent parents. My mother taught us to respect everyone, and she taught me how to be a gentleman. My father always said to trust everyone until they give you a reason not to trust them. He always gave good advice. He died at age 39 when I was a senior in high school. That’s something that I regret, that I miss—not knowing my father or having him here while I’ve been an adult.

 What are a father’s responsibilities?

David B.:  A father shows his children with his example how they should live, not just by telling them what they should do and how they should behave. He instills a sense of worth and positive self-esteem. He teaches his sons how to treat women and teaches his daughters how they can expect to be treated by men. If he does a terrible job, then another generation learns bad behavior, but if he does a good job, the world is a better place.

Larry M: Protecting them, providing a stable place for your children to develop and hope that they become sustaining citizens.

Kelly M: To raise his kids to be productive adults and to keep them safe. At one point, though, you have no control, and you have to let them go on to live their own lives.

Ken S.: The welfare of the children, including provision, safety and faith. Faith is as important as anything else. You have to feed them spiritually, too. 

 Do you have a favorite memory of your own father?

David B.: As I have gotten older, I really value the way my father has become more of a counselor and advisor to me. I value his input and opinion on life decisions.

 Larry M.: His sayings that I quote all the time, his guidance as I went into public life. I knew he was always there for me. When Dad passed away, my son gave the eulogy and said, “Older people claim to be able to talk to young people. Grandpa listened.”

Kelly M.: He was never afraid to take chances on anything, and if he wasn’t happy, he would just…go. He would say, “Why stay and be miserable?” I think there’s a part of everyone who wants to do that, live like that. He was all about being happy.

Ken S.: I was 6 years old. He and I were driving down a road in his black and chrome Ford Fairlane 500. He pointed at the rearview mirror and said to me, “This mirror is here because sometimes you have to look at where you’ve been to see where you’re going.” I never forgot that.

 Do you have a most memorable Father’s Day?

David B.: Probably my most memorable Father's Day was my first one. Nothing too special happened that day--we had a picnic at a park, I think. But I was very excited to be able to celebrate.

Larry M.: It was my daughter’s two children giving me that picture [a painting of Larry’s father on a tractor.] Dad was sick at the time; it was just before he died. They saw tears in my eyes and thought I didn’t like it, but that wasn’t it at all. There was a moment of “the handing over of the reins,” so to speak. I realized I was going to be the new patriarch of the family.

Kelly M.: A few years ago my son came into town [from Kentucky] for that weekend, and we spent the day at my dad’s house. It was one of those times I wished would never end.

Ken S.: We went to Tappan Lake for a picnic and spent all day there. All of us got sunburned.

 What do fathers want for their own children?

David B.: I think most fathers want the standard happy and healthy for their kids. Also, I think most fathers hope that their kids turn out better than they did and don't make the same mistakes they did.

Larry M.: Every night I used to whisper a little prayer in my kids’ ears, “May God bless you and keep you happy, healthy and strong.” If they can grow up that way and remain that way, then a father’s work is done.

Kelly M.: When you’re divorced your hands are tied in a lot of areas. You miss out on so many things. I want them to be happy and healthy. I hope they are.

Ken S.: To be happy, healthy, safe, to do better than we did. Ditto for the grandchildren, by the way. I thought it would be cool to have grandchildren, but you don’t know until you have them. It’s much cooler than I imagined.

 So, what do fathers really want for Father’s Day?

David B.:  A little bit of peace and quiet!

Larry M.: I always told them don’t buy gifts because if I want it and can afford it, I probably already have it. If I don’t have it, it’s because I can’t afford it, and I know you can’t afford it either. I think a hug and an “I love you” is probably the best thing. The sharing of that is really special.

Kelly M.: I never want presents. I guess I really just want a phone call to let me know they’re okay.

Ken S.: A card is good. They usually get me a lot more. Don’t tell them, but I’d be fine with the card.