Father’s Day always leaves me feeling a little left out. Dad died many years ago and I wholeheartedly miss his presence in my life. As years pass, I have more trouble ‘seeing’ my dad in my mind’s eye. I know he loved to be outdoors. He loved his family. He loved to play Scrabble. He loved to read. He was a Red Sox fan. He loved us.
He used to sit at the kitchen table reading the newspaper cover to cover daily, although he may have been “resting his eyes” as well. He always knew what was going on in town and in the state. He loved to read westerns. He had a collection of Charles Alden Seltzer and Zane Grey books that he read cover to cover many times. Some of these were from the original printing and others were reprints. He knew each book frontwards and backwards. Both authors were prolific and had published many books, some even came out after their death. He shared these books with me and I read each and every one of them. I had favorites and least favorites. I had books I read over and over. Dad thought a lot of these books and they were always well maintained. When he became ill, he lent some out and I have never found where they ended up. After he died I took the rest of them to my home.
Charles Alden Seltzer and Zane Grey’s books were novels about a time in the west that had been serialized by cowboys, wanderers, mountain men, rangers, western justice, and standing up for what was right and moral. The heroes were not always heroes at first, but by the end of the book, they usually had solved some mystery or injustice and saved or married a woman caught up in the concern. The books described the western landscape with details that made the books come alive. I sometimes wonder if that is how he saw himself. Someone who had it hard, but found the woman he wanted and tried to stand up for what was moral and right. Not such a bad goal when you think of it…
He gave me the love of a good fictional story with good vs bad, morally ambiguous characters that choose good and satisfying endings. Books that have meaning but not earth shattering. Books that move steadily toward a conclusion that ends positively mostly. Of all the traits he passed on to me, the largest was the love of reading fiction. (and maybe being a Red Sox fan.)
