Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Random memories and thoughts

I call father "father". To me it is a loving term equal to "dad" or any other word, plus I like how the word father flows off the tongue.

When I called the house father answered most of the time. The call went like this.
Father in his deep voice: Hellooooo?
Me: Father, Stanford.
Father in a voice almost exactly one octave higher and with excitement: Stan

I keep hearing this lovely welcome in my head.

I would ride down the hill with mother to pick up father at the university. She would sit in the car and send me in. I always stopped to play with the exhibits as I walked to his office. When I got to the office he might be "ready to go", and it would take just a few minutes to come to a stopping point on whatever he was doing. Other times he was with a student. I would sit quietly as father gave his student whatever time was needed by the student.

I have very few memories of Brazil, though I remember smells and tastes. I have a memory of posing for a picture. I think father took it. We were stopped by the road and I posed in front of a leaf that was much bigger than me.

There were many times up at the cabins that we would be working on plumbing or something else and father would say "go back to the house and get ..." On time stuck in my mind.

We were walking back from the lower spring following the polyethylene pipe. We found something that needed fixing, but we couldn't loosen a joint. Father sent me back to the house to get a tool. I think father was using a pocket knife and he needed a screw driver. I went back to the house and got it. When I returned he thanked me, and then told me that he had gotten the connection loose.

He thanked me. It stuck in my memory because of the frustration of getting the tool and then not needing it. But, I remember he thanked me. Father often thanked us for our help.

The drive home last Saturday and Sunday was long and tiring. We switched drivers every 2 hours. One time while Dianne was driving we drove under some high power lines. I started to cry. Father would have tried to figure out where it came from and where it was going. He likely would have asked me a question I never could remember how to calculate. He would ask the voltage of the lines.

Here are some pictures from the trip out to Berkeley.

Deer in the back yard

Friday before we came home: Tilden Park

Sterling and Otto in the park

Some wild flowers were blooming in Tilden

Donner Pass on the way home

Almost exactly 180 degrees from the last picture

Most of the way home this was what we saw.


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