Hello!

Welcome to The Epic! I am launching this blog as a manifesto for and a guide to living well. The title and motto of the blog are taken from the Epicureans, at least some of whom believed in the notion that not one minute of the future was guaranteed to them and that as a result they had the duty to live life to its fullest every moment.

I believe in discovering fun and pleasurable things wherever I find myself each day and I am told I have a knack for unearthing them. My hope is that by sharing in my pleasures and some of my ways of finding them you will begin to collect all the riches that lie in the moments of your life. They are there. Take them! All our lives should be.....Epic.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

A Fathers' Day Reverie

My earliest memory involves the snow. And my Dad. Shortly after I discovered the miracle of walking, I was outside trying to follow my Dad around in several feet of new powder. Struggling to step into the footprints he was making in front of me. Suddenly, I missed a step and fell into the formless snow where I sunk over my head and floundered. The snow began to close over me. Panicked, I screamed for help and two then-giant arms immediately snatched me from my predicament. My Dad. Superhero.

Me floundering. Dad there to help. A scene that would repeat itself every so often.

A few years ago, I had the notion that I would write a booklet of memories for my Dad. Including this first one. He just loved it. Three years later he was gone. My Epic tip today is twofold. Listen to your "notions" and act on them. Second, if you are lucky like me and had great parents, tell them. You don't have to write it. Just tell it. Don't leave it up to intuition or nonverbal communication. Even if you would rather poke yourself in the eye than speak of how much they mean to you. If I, a product of noncommunicative Norwegian culture, could do it, so can you. The benefit to them will be immediate. The benefit to you will come a while later, when you are the one in the lead, making the footprints.

11 comments:

Ben said...

Thank you for a wonderful post and a great lesson to never forget.

~Tessa~Scoffs said...

In the end, all we have is what we make of it.

~Tessa~Scoffs said...

I see my dad almost every day so it's a bit weird to go all mushy every time I see him. But because today was "special" I gave him an extra kiss and hug. He doesn't read my blog but he likes "The Art of Manliness".

M.Lane said...

Ben, thanks. I hope you had a great day!

Mrs. Scoffs, depending on the personalities involved, it may be good or bad to have Dad there every day. I'll bet he loves it. It is probably easy to take his presence for granted when you see him every day. My father in law lives with us. I'll ask the Irish Redhead what she thinks about that.

ML

Uncle Beefy said...

M. Lane...just thinking about ya' on your coast from my coast and hoping the day was a grand one for you. "Happy Father's Day!"

SUCH a great post for today!

M.Lane said...

Mon Oncle, thanks for the good wishes! It was a really nice day.

ML

Turling said...

My father died of colon cancer three years ago. He and my mother lived several hundred miles away and my son was just under two, so going out that way took a little planning. We went to see him when the doctor's told him he had about six months. As we were leaving, I said we would be back out in a few weeks. He said not to bother, as he and my mother would come see us. A month later he was gone. Take the time to say what needs to be said. Don't wait. I kick myself quite often for not ignoring him and going to see him one more time. I miss my dad.

M.Lane said...

Turling, I know exactly what you are saying. I felt bad for not visiting more often once I had a family also. But, our Dads, as parents, fully understood the sacrifices we took upon ourselves and had to make for our new families. So don't kick yourself too hard. They got it.

I miss my Dad too. Every day.

ML

beachbungalow8 said...

I'm so glad you pointed me toward this post. It was eloquently written, to the point yet poignant. You've inspired me to start my own little book of memories of my dad.

Megan

beachbungalow8 said...

I'm so glad you pointed me toward this post. It was eloquently written, to the point yet poignant. You've inspired me to start my own little book of memories of my dad.

Megan

M.Lane said...

Megan, your comment means more to me than you could know. Thanks.

ML

PS. I love your blog.