My father was an interesting character. Handsome to a fault, for certain and musically gifted. The two gifts, I’m sure you will agree, caused drama for everyone who know him. He was funny, when he wanted to be, and stubborn when he was angry. As for me, I only grasped the good genes from him (Lol). Anyone who know my father and I would have to agree that we were two alike, but from different worlds. He was irritatingly frugal, and I promised myself I would never be that way. He would get up at the crack of dawn and be the first to enter the sliding glass doors of the grocery store and have the pick of the litter of the ‘last chance’ items. He would bring home vegetables so close to death you would just shack you head and move on in your life – terrifying, for sure. He would bang the pots and pans in the kitchen, while singing (slightly off key, due to too many years on the road with the band) Mariachi style. Maybe he spent .50cent on those deathly vegetables, but he could live on the soup that he made from them all week long. So, how can this ever be genetic, you might be asking right about now. Well, let me tell you. This once frugal, garage selling addict somehow rubbed off on me. When that happened, I can’t tell you. I would have to venture to speculate and conclude that it happened around the time I had kids. Man!!! They are expensive. Now, he’s gone, and today I find myself looking forward to YARD SALE SATURDAYS and I love making soup. I never eat it before. My mother didn’t make it (I was raised with her until he came into my live when I was in my 20s). Today’s topic was inspired by my buffet of soups (chicken noodle, cream of chicken, and French onion – all homemade) that I made for my kids. It made thank of him, miss him, love him, and want to share. May your day be filled with warm memories of your father. Blessings.
White Buffalo
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