Friday Tidings

The card arrived in the mail the day before Father’s Day. Hallmark’s eloquent words would have been enough sentiment, but Dad’s handwritten words of encouragement to his son-in-law on his first Father’s Day, made me swallow back my tears.  Without fail, those cards came each year until my Dad passed on. Being a good father was something my dad learned the hard way. Today, divorce and single-parenting are common, but in 1937, not so much. As a young boy, Dad moved from everything he knew in sunny Chico, California—with its paved, tree-lined streets to a dusty farm in Eastern Washington. He wouldn’t see his father again for 15 years. When his mom remarried, his step-father became the only dad he’d have—an honest, hard-working man. He was dependable too—something so needed when your childhood has been broken. We all have broken places in our lives—Dad didn’t talk much about his losses, but he sure tried to make up for them...

“Why do you think I wasn’t selected?” I had slid into his classroom after school because I knew this teacher was brutally honest. “Not everyone likes you.” He was referring to the faculty selection committee. My approval addiction was rearing its ugly head. He went on, “You know how to succeed, but you haven’t learned about failure. Better learn it now or life will teach you.” He was right. Just over a year later, I listened to the keynote speaker at my high school graduation.... a prosperous businessman. He congratulated us for our hard work and said we’d be successful if we continued to work hard. Yes! I knew how to work hard. Success would be mine. Went to college, worked hard. Found my best friend, Tom. When I turned 21, I married him. Success assured. And then my high school teacher’s predictions happened. Life brought failure. Fail: Delivering firewood and newspapers didn’t cover our bills, moved out of college housing, liv...

Looking over my shoulder into the shadows I sensed someone was there. There had to be somewhere safe to hide. Someone was following me; I ran swiftly ahead in the dark. Coming around the side of a building I saw a couple kids huddled together under an eave. An older woman watched over them—they reminded me of chicks tucked safely next to a mother hen—but the woman glared at me with suspicion.  Who could blame her when it was so dark. I tried to squeeze in next to them. She hissed like a cat. I looked at her and then back towards the unknown assailant lurking out there. My eyes pleaded with her to let me stay. Her hand moved swiftly, and a knife was thrust close to my face. I jumped back and started running. Looking back, I saw there wasn’t one assailant, but two. My feet sounded loud on the pavement as I ran. The alley was so dark I thought maybe I could hide. Just then someone grabbed my arm and pulled me ...