There are many things I’ve inherited from my parents. My mother’s green eyes, her ability to spell, her feisty attitude. My dad’s height, his pride, his desire to understand the “why” of things. The family line runs deep in me, as it does for anyone really.
But then there are those traits that make one question whether or not the milk-man paid a non-business visit to the family establishment approximately 9-months before your birth.
In my case, this would be the gift of being able to savor idle pleasures. I call it a gift because that’s precisely what it is. While I may not have talent in sports or art, this skill enables me to enjoy the following: napping, sitting quietly, reading a book I have no intention of finishing, laying in the grass, going for walks without thinking about calories burned, watching sunsets, traveling without a plan, and essentially putting off all things that most say HAVE to be done right now.
(I have a keen understanding that the world will not implode if I leave those dishes in the sink until tomorrow morning, as crazy as that sounds.)
I did not get this from my dad. My dad does not sit still. The man looks and acts like the love-child of John Wayne and Harrison Ford. He has a gritty pick-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps mindset from growing up as one of 17 to a poor, farming family. If there is something to be done, he does it and does it to the absolute best of his ability. If there is nothing to be done, he finds something to be done and does it to the absolute best of his ability. His work ethic is a rare thing of beauty and I admire and respect him for it.
In some ways, his take on life has woven itself into my own character. I don’t like to half-ass things. I take pride in my work, regardless of what that may be. And I hate wasting time. The distinct difference between he and I is that I don’t see being idle as a “waste”. I believe it is as necessary as remembering to exhale.
This weekend, I was able to give this gift to my dad.
Running Dust and Wanderlust 