This past weekend I had the pleasure of sitting with my father in his ravine-side gazebo overlooking a canopy of trees, with tea in hand, and many folders full of material from our family history. I had never sat with him before in this manner or read to him aloud. It was “very Chekov”, a friend of mine pointed out. I thought it was sublime.
On one of his birthdays past, I gave him a family history with all of the information in it, including a picture of his great grandfather. It did not seem to spark his interest. Something was missing in my pursuit to inspire him, or hook him, into the past as I had been many years before. I lacked the confidence to convey to him the importance of it to me, or to engage him in a way that he could understand.
This time was different. I had collected some new facts, and found a nugget that really interested him. Our grandfather was a Reeve and owned his own land. He had many properties. My dad smiled at me as I read aloud, himself a business man with property. He challenged me on a couple of things. His questions peaked my interest and we sparred over whether or not such and such was true or not, or if we were related to so and so at all. I believed we were, which fascinated him more. As he lay there on his lounger, head leaning back, eyes closed, I thought he fell asleep, only to arise with another question, “Do you think they were drinkers?” I laughed out loud.
And…
“When are you going to find out more?”
I smiled. He was hooked.
That's Relative! 