I promised recently that I would share the story of why the oriole visits are so meaningful here but, first, I need to give you what might be an unexpected introduction.
As you may have seen here last week, my father passed away five years ago, so I count myself among those of you out there looking skyward when you wish your Dad a Happy Father's Day.
My Dad was a very interesting, unique, funny and surprising man but in my youth he was mostly the guy who left for work each day while the rest of us were still in bed and came home to fall asleep in front of the tv after dinner every night. Weekends were for his gardens, his camera and for playing excellent music while we were corralled into doing chores inside and out. He didn't quite know how to relate to kids (not uncommon for men of his generation), so we were never really that close when I was younger.
That doesn't mean he didn't have a huge influence on me but we didn't really talk about things or do a lot together when I was young and then I moved away and starting my own life. In truth, we were both pretty surprised when I became his caregiver at the end of his life. It was a role I was actually in before I realized I was in it; a role not without its trials and tribulations. And yet, it was also the most wonderful time in our relationship, with our developing a friendship that was far stronger than our father-daughter bond had ever been.
I miss him terribly.
He was also one of the funniest people I have ever met and his humor and crazy wisdom was entirely woven through his dying process. I used to laugh myself to sleep after jotting down "Frankisms" on a notepad I began to keep next to the bed when I stayed at his house (my childhood home). I didn't know at the time they would inspire me to write a book.
The book is quite far along and then I put it aside for a while (I'll bet many memoirs and tributes share that kind of course). But I'm ready to get back to it, and I'll be sharing much of it (maybe all, who knows) with you here as I go. What I'll share today is a video of a public reading I did of two excerpts a while back.
The first clip is entitled "Just Skin and Bones" and captures one of the last times I saw my father. I had a photo in a gallery show at Water Street Studios in Batavia which you will hear referenced in the opening reading. Here is the photo, taken of my father's legs just three weeks before his death.
And, no. I never imagined I would show that photo to anyone, let alone see it hung in a gallery show.
The second excerpt will tell you all about the summer the orioles first arrived. The story doesn't end there with the orioles, as you can see from other entries at this blog, but there return...that is a story for another day...
Waterline Writers April 21, 2013 - Laura Young from Waterline Writers on Vimeo.
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