Father’s Day

When I called my father yesterday, he was out of breath. He’d been out working in the garden and left the garage door open so he’d hear the phone. He kind of thought I might call and didn’t want to miss me. As soon as he heard the phone ring, he ran to answer it. I thought that was really sweet of him to tell me, and it was really touching to realize how much it means to him after all these years. I almost forgot to call, since we celebrated Father’s Day in Europe last week.

We talked about various things, catching up, and he mentioned his recent trip to Italy. Some of the others in their party were quite well-informed about art history, and he wished he’d paid attention better in school when they learned about fine arts and artists. I gave my standard lecture as a response: Everybody has areas in which they are experts. We tend to think that other people know everything we know as well as their areas of interest/expertise. I assured him that he has his special knowledge as well. In such situations, we can either pretend we know what the others are talking about, or we can take advantage of the opportunity to ask questions and increase our knowledge and understanding. He was astonished at his “wise daughter’s” words, as he said. I assured him I was speaking from experience, as I’ve often felt stupid and insufficient.

I’m so glad I called — because he revealed that he’d secretly been hoping I would, and because I was able to assure him that he’s not stupid. He just has other areas than art about which he is well-informed. I’m also glad that our relationship has improved so much over the past 15 years. It still warms my heart, so many hours later, as I am once again reminded how important small gestures are — and how much they mean to others.