Date: August 24, 1990
Age: 13
Yesterday and this morning we worked. This afternoon we do the river. Tell Mom I'll try to throw D off the raft. He can't swim.
Love, Dad
Love, Dad
I've blogged before about my Dad's whitewater rafting trips in North Carolina, or as he called it, "Deliverance Land" (even though Deliverance took place in Georgia). He and his work buddies did this annually in the late 80s/early 90s. The one mentioned in this postcard--"D"--has been to visit my dad in the hospital, I believe. Others who I remember participating in the trips are no longer around in different ways--his best friend died a few years back, and another he had some sort of falling out with, though I have a feeling he and my dad are both guilty for the same flaws in integrity.
I finally had the chance to tell my dad that I was moving to North Carolina. When I visited him a month ago, I hadn't made a final decision, and considering the chastising he gave my brothers and me, I didn't want to share any good news. Last week, once I heard he was out of ICU, I left a few voicemails asking him to call me back. Then I sent his wife an email saying, "please have him call me. I'm moving to North Carolina, and I thought he may be interested in finding out why." It would be the first time we spoke since the visit in Miami.
When called, I told him all the good news--that I got into four programs, told him my reasons for picking UNCG, bragged that they told me my fiction sample put me in the top 6 of all fiction applicants, etc. I felt like I needed to talk it up, to make him understand how important this was for me, how getting accepted alone is an accomplishment. And, he got it, he really did. While he said "that's great," which is his usual response when you share good news with him, he asked a few questions about what I'd be doing in the program, and that he could tell that it was something I've always wanted to do.
He sounded tired and weary, but he said, "Don't take my tone as not being excited for you, because I am. I'm just so exhausted." I said, "I know, it's okay." I smiled, I got teary-eyed, I knew he was genuinely happy for me.
I finally had the chance to tell my dad that I was moving to North Carolina. When I visited him a month ago, I hadn't made a final decision, and considering the chastising he gave my brothers and me, I didn't want to share any good news. Last week, once I heard he was out of ICU, I left a few voicemails asking him to call me back. Then I sent his wife an email saying, "please have him call me. I'm moving to North Carolina, and I thought he may be interested in finding out why." It would be the first time we spoke since the visit in Miami.
When called, I told him all the good news--that I got into four programs, told him my reasons for picking UNCG, bragged that they told me my fiction sample put me in the top 6 of all fiction applicants, etc. I felt like I needed to talk it up, to make him understand how important this was for me, how getting accepted alone is an accomplishment. And, he got it, he really did. While he said "that's great," which is his usual response when you share good news with him, he asked a few questions about what I'd be doing in the program, and that he could tell that it was something I've always wanted to do.
He sounded tired and weary, but he said, "Don't take my tone as not being excited for you, because I am. I'm just so exhausted." I said, "I know, it's okay." I smiled, I got teary-eyed, I knew he was genuinely happy for me.
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