Tossing us back to May 1967. The four of us siblings were trying to fly a kite that our dad made. Those bamboo and tissue paper kites he crafted were lightweight, durable, and able to soar quite high. Daddy built one that was about five feet tall. It grabbed the wind so well that it pulled away from his strong grip and sailed over Lake Michigan.
That grand beast became a family legend. Daddy once had a dream that he watched it cross the lake. He never built another one as large because he knew it would be uncontrollable.
WIND, a local radio station, hosted a kite festival one summer. We brought a few of our beautiful and colorful Filipino-style flying devices. We hoped to win one of the prizes. We even had a miniature one for the Smallest Kite contest. Others brought tinier versions, so we were disappointed. We went home empty-handed, but had a fantastic time among others who were vying to tether breezes.
As Father’s Day approaches, I remember the toys our dad built. We had a go cart with its own track in our basement. We took it outside to the parking lot of a lakeside street once. It was exhilarating to ride it down the steep asphalt.
When our parents were kids, there were very few machine-made amusements that were available. Even if they were in shops, I don’t think they could have afforded them. So, they made their own toys, played outside, swam in the small waterways nearby, and enjoyed the company of many siblings, cousins, and neighbors.
Without fancy footwear, basketball games were contests in which the teammates built up the soles of their feet on hot surfaces.
As we heard these descriptions of life in the provinces, I was in awe of my folks’ ability to make their own delights. As they spoke, their eyes would glow, smiles came unbidden, and they would become animated as they acted out their games. Their enthusiasm was contagious.
They did their best to show us how to find contentment in modest circumstances. The local parks were free and open to the public. Playgrounds were swarmed by children who lived in apartment buildings. We did not have a yard of our own until much later.
I am grateful that I had the thrill of rolling down a tall grassy hill, sledding down that same incline in the winter, and tumbling among leaves in the fall.
It may seem as though I grew up in ancient times, but I have no regrets. That is, unless I count the times I wished my parents had more days off to spend with us in the park.
#tossingusback
What wonderful memories, Jo-Jo! Your dad sounds like he was an amazing man, and you were so lucky to share those experiences with him. Happy Father’s Day to him in heaven!