On Thanks, Dad!:
rrgirl writes:
lovely stuff.
this weekend I saw a picture of my dad that was taken in England during the war. it documented a successful bombing mission but he wasn’t celebrating. he looked so small, young and scared in his uniform. there was something in his eyes I never saw in him in my lifetime. he clearly was still a boy in that picture. funny how it ages me now to think of him that way.my favorite image of him is just a memory from the last year he was healthy. he’d raised an enormous vegetable garden and I watched him hop barefoot through the squash vines picking stuff for a picnic dinner. the sun was low and golden, and he was just giddy having a houseful of kids and grandkids.
a grandaughter he knew only as small child plans to marry a soldier soon. she was probably up in the garden with him that day. I can’t help wondering what he would say to her.
And CP adds:
The New Math! Word problems! Algebra! These bring back BAD childhood memories!
But one good one to add. My dad taught me how to change a flat tire.
Thanks for sharing your Dad Memories.
My family didn’t take enough photos back in the day, but my head is stuffed with memories — in living color, with sounds and even smells — that bring the past to life. Dad didn’t teach me how to change a flat, but he and Mom raised me to be able to figure out how to do it. The first time I changed a flat the car was on a hill and it was snowing.
One thing I associate with New Math is bundles of branches. The number 11 wasn’t the number 11, but a bundle of ten branches plus one loose branch:
35 was three bundles plus five loose branches:
I guess this was supposed to make math less abstract and more concrete. I don’t know. It made me equate math with forestry.
