The non international father’s day

How is anybody supposed to know? There is an onslaught for Mother’s day which will happen this weekend. And then, every year, out of the blue, there is the German Father’s day. Surprises me every year, and I usually call too late, or I forget completely taking away from some of my father’s happiness when he is surrounded by celebrating fathers in Germany, who enjoy a day off of work. So how am I supposed to know? I placed a reminder in my date thingy software (no names here this time). And what does this software do to me? (this is why I will mention no names). It reminds me randomly of the “Father’s day in Germany” since. Really. Randomly. It sometimes goes for weeks without reminders and then there are these little spurts of blinking every two days or so. So I have to admit that I am a bit desensitized. I have a computer program that cried “dad” too much.

I need not to say that pretty much lucked out with my dad. He gave me the first pencil and showed me how to draw. He put it in my left hand and boy, tests revealed later that I turned out to be a complete lefty, (I kick the ball with my left foot and even look through the camera with my left eye, to name a few examples here.) My dad was a photographer (he admitted using a package of large photographic paper that he would carry around with him, to draw attention from girls, what a man!) He gave me his camera to “play” with, when I was 6. He took me into the darkroom around that age too. He taught me that movies use actors to show stories that did not necessary happen this way, he taught me that in some rare occasions, news can do the same. He taught me to believe in myself, in the future and in the good in people, he taught me so much, that I do not even want to try to put it all here. I will just attach a picture to this post. My dad is probably somewhere around my current age in the picture, maybe a bit younger. The little guy in the center, that’s me. You see how my dad is holding us? This is because he took the picture on our balcony in Poland, with a self timer, using his Praktina. The same camera I still use to shoot pictures today. (He gave it to me when he came to visit me in New York a few years ago. And do you see that I am holding something in the picture that looks like a little camera? It is the meter. My father had me measure the for this shot. And you can see that I was pretty serious about it.

I just spoke to my dad. He is doing quite well. A state garden show is on in Hanau/Germany, where my parents live. So I am actually quite happy not to be there today, because of my allergies. My dad was very happy that I am doing quite well too. He said that he could have never imagined that one day I would go somewhere, across the ocean and work on projects that he could not have imagined. He also did not think that I would ever write so much in a Language that he does not speak. I know he comes to visit this page sometimes, just to see if I am still OK... So what can I say?

Dziekuje Ci tato za wszystko. Jestes wspanialy i ja bardzo Cie kocham.

I am sure this is what my father would have said to his father, if they had ever had the chance to talk. But because of where we were in Europe after the war they never even had a chance to meet.