I try to post this every year at father’s day.  A mother’s love is immediate and omnipresent while a father’s love is outside the bounds of time.  I noticed mothers help their children while facing them, as if to say, “I am here to take care of everything”.  A father shows you how from behind, as if to say, “Let me show you the way”.  A totally different prospective for each gender.

I was talking to a Cub Scout Pack about the purpose of a pine wood derby.  I told them how my dad and I built a car and I got a trophy.  I no longer have the car, the trophy, or my father.  I have the memory of a patient man teaching a kid how to spray paint without getting runs.  If I remember correctly he was behind me while he showed me how.   I'm still a damn good spray painter.  Showing love while showing how!

A Father's Hug

When I use a handsaw, my father's still behind me, his hand over mine on the handle, his other holding the board, his mouth to my ear, a father's hug.  Quietly commanding, "Steady the blade with your knuckle, pull twice to set, cut on the waste side, long clean strokes won't bind the blade."

I feel the sandpaper roughness of his unshaved Saturday face as it is pressed against my cheek, the warmth of morning sun as we work outside, the pressure on my hand as he helps me to keep a square line. I smell a combination of pine, aftershave, coffee and his pipe.  Our project was bookends.  I now realize we were really making memories.

When I drill a hole, my father 's still there.  My hands on the brace. his over mine.  A father's hug.  "Square the bit from two sides, clockwise to drill, back it up to clear the bit."

A friend commented, at the birth of his child, that he would show his child the affection his father never could.  I told him his father showed him lots of affection.  Hugs, all from behind.  Each given with love, each meant to teach.  And through all the differences of opinion, arguments and difficult times my father and I have had, I still pull twice to set a blade, still square a bit from two sides.

Now my son uses a saw, I am behind him, my hand over his on the handle.  A father’s hug.