Quantcast

A letter to dad

I am thinking about you as I drive along U.S. Route 1 on the Maine coast. In my teens, I remember you and Mom would get away and visit here every so often.

It was back then when I didn't express much interest in asking how your trip was or what you saw or what you liked about the coast of Maine. I guess that's what kids are like-generally unaware that their folks would just as soon feel their children might be the slightest bit interested in what they're up to.

Running along these Maine roads puts my mind to thinking of how much fun you and Mom had together discovering the best places for fish chowder and lobster bisque. Now I imagine you sitting in front of trinket stores waiting for Mom to buy postcards, and other various things-we humans buy things.

I drive on and on and on, curious about the things you were thinking as you waited for her. I imagine you thought of your halcyon days as a Greyhound bus driver. You were dubbed, "King of the Road," by the local paper in an issue I found going through your dresser after you passed away. I wonder why I didn't make more of a big deal of the article when it ran?

Actually, the more I think about it the more I think it doesn't matter if I made a big deal about the news article, because you knew how cool I thought you were in your professional driver's uniform with the 35-year safety patch sewn onto the sleeve and your bus-driver cap festooned-front and center-with a big blue and gold Greyhound Lines badge.

You wore that uniform well and I'd have to be a father myself to realize how you understood way, back then, that I looked up at you as my hero.

0
Vote on this Story by clicking on the Icon

Comments

Use the comment form below to begin a discussion about this content.

Sign in to comment