Great Day

            Those of you who know me will be surprised to read this, but,......I was a moody child. Scowl on my face most of the time. The more people tried to make me smile, the more stubbornly I refused. Amplify this with the natural moodiness of most teenagers, and I became insufferable as I got into my teens. Dad was always one for dumb jokes – so he was often trying to get to me.

               One Saturday morning when I was about 15, I awoke and realized everyone else was already up. The bedrooms were all on the second floor, and the bathroom was on the first floor. How to get to the bathroom without having to interact with the humans who comprised my family? I started down the stairs keeping my eyes closed – hoping to ward off any conversation. As I got to the bottom step, I realized someone was sitting at the kitchen table. I was going to have to open my eyes and, gasp!, maybe even have to say “good morning.”

               With an evil look, I opened my eyes to see, sure enough, my Dad at the kitchen table looking at me. He had a great big smile on his face.

               “It's a great day for the race!” he said.

               My brain started going around and around. What race? Was there something for school I had forgotten about? There was a bicycle race that came past our house once or twice a year – was it the day for the bicycle race? Was it something Dad had just heard on the radio and was passing along? Was it one of his jokes? Oh Lord, it was probably one of his really bad jokes, and now I had stood there too long to ignore the comment, I was going to have to ask. I so did not want to ask. But I had to.

               “What race, Dad?”

               “The Human Race!” Dad exclaimed triumphantly as I groaned and ran to the bathroom. I could hear him laughing at his success in getting to me. All I wanted was to forget the whole thing.

               And forget I did and all too well.

               Danged if the same scene did not replay itself in the exact same way a couple of months later!

               It was a Saturday morning. I walked down the stairs with my eyes almost closed. Someone was at the kitchen table. Dad sat there with a big grin on his face.

              “It's a great day for the race!”

              I opened my mouth to say something snarky and then realized to my horror that even though I remembered Dad making that comment before in exactly the same circumstances, I could not remember what race he was talking about!

              My brain went through the same thought circuits as before – something for school? The bike race up the street? Something he just heard on the radio? One of his silly jokes? Oh I concluded it was definitely one of his dumb jokes – but what was the punchline? Too much time had passed while I stood there – I was going to have to ask. But I did not want to ask. I would have to ask – ignoring him at this point would be taking my insolence too far. The only way I could force myself to ask Dad what race was to promise myself to listen to the answer and never ever forget again what the punchline is. That way I would be ready with my own snarky response the next time he started the joke.

               “What race, Dad?”

               “The Human Race!” Dad grinned – thrilled that he had gotten me a second time with the same joke as I groaned and ran to the bathroom. I could hear his laughter through the closed door.

               But I would be ready for him the next time!

               And I'm still waiting.

               I guess you could say that since Dad never again said, “It's a great day for the race!” and I've been waiting for if – that he has essentially successfully gotten me a third time. That's my Dad.

              This memory-a-day blog for the year 2015 was begun 365 days ago with a quote from my Dad - “it's better than a sharp stick in the eye” - which is the name for the blog, because, and I'll repeat myself here – you can read the blog, say to yourself that you can do better, and I say, yes you can, because anything is better than a sharp stick in the eye! And so I thought it would be more than fitting to complete the blog today, the last day of 2015 with another of my Dad's quotes.

              This month I have mentioned the list I made several years ago of words of wisdom – philosophies that I say I live by and I've attempted to explain what I mean by each of them:

                       Six: Clowns are people too

                       Five: Make love, not war

                       Four: Sometimes choose to be the chump

                      Three: Go home different than the way you came

                      (three and four I attribute to the associate pastor a church the girls and I attended during the '90's)

                      Two: It's better than a sharp stick in the eye

                       (two and one I attribute to Dad)

               And One? When I was putting this list together, I realized that there was something I say to folks often. It is something that I wake up to most mornings. It is proof that I kept the promise I made to myself so many years ago – my number one statement of philosophy – the one that supersedes all others in my list of words of wisdom:

One: It 's a great day for the Race!

go in peace.

365 20151231 Great Day