Remembering

I was sitting with my cousin Jon the other day and he reminded me of my dad's proclivity to purchase an odd assortment of cars.  There was the Rambler that never quite ran well, the Dodge Pioneer with push button transmission buttons, the Dodge that barely made it up the hills of Seattle, one of the first Mazda rotary engines that ingested ash from Mt. St. Helens and the Opel Cadet that had no acceleration.  Try driving the Opel onto Washington State highways with short on ramps.

When we moved him down from Vancouver Wa. to Los Angeles, there were at least 10 copier paper boxes of toothpaste.  Any time there was a sale, apparently he bought toothpaste.  I always assumed it was a by product of his upbringing when supplies were scarce.

In my youth there were adventures in the garage.  It was filled with so much stuff, I created tunnels to crawl through.  A two car garage with no room for a car.  I guess that is why we had a carport.  As I set out to find stuff in my garage, I find myself navigating through stuff like i did when i was young.

Dad had loyal friends.  Friends from the Army and Japan.  Recently I attended a funeral of an old Army buddy of his from MIS interpreter school.  To this day his sons reminisce about how their dad would talk about their friendship.  His friends would come by and tell stories of how he would buy food and supplies from the Army PX and distribute it to people he knew in need during postwar Japan.  They were fiercely loyal to him in friendship.

There are some things I inherited from my parents, both good, bad and strange.  I find in myself more of the strange traits than good.