The Golden Bear

In that place between wakefulness and sleep, I looked up from the face of my niece's newborn baby and saw Dad walking toward me.  He was holding his two year old great-grandson, with ease and competence, the same way I've seen him carry my own children when they were small.  I was cradling another bundle of joy in my arms, Dad's tiny new great-granddaughter!  As Dad approached with a smile on his face---true happiness at having not just one, but now TWO great-grandchildren, which in this life, he never knew existed, but would have loved dearly---I saw he was sporting a familiar shirt. He wore that golfing shirt until it was threadbare: white polo with maroon stripes and the tiny "Jack Nicklaus" Golden Bear emblem sewn onto the pocket.

We used to tease him about being the "Golden Bear" in his golfing days.  It makes me smile to think of how he'd laugh as we joked together.

The next chance I got, I looked for that shirt.  It was in the trash can.  I knew I'd used it just a few days before as a rag from Mom's supply to clean up ball point ink stains.  As I pulled it from her garbage, sure enough, the pocket of the shirt was untarnished! I used the scissors to quickly cut out the pocket with the tiny Golden Bear.

                                                   

            (photo circa 2000- 2001)

   relaxing after mowing grass, on a summer's evening at twilight, 

in the coolness of the red maple tree at Mom and Dad's house

Kindreds of the same era

There was a dear old man at the register last week that reached into his pocket to give the exact change.  I took an instant liking to him when he pulled out of that pocket a little green change purse!
"A change purse!" I exclaimed.
I think he was a little taken aback at my enthusiasm at something so common place in his world.
"I haven't seen a change purse in years!  My dad used one all the time!  He died in June..."
As he offered his condolences and we chatted briefly (about how hard it is to FIND change purses these days, ha!), I discovered he was also a Korean Veteran and in his early eighties.
More similarities.  I find myself drawn to things that remind me of Dad.