When fathers read …


I saw this building as we walked back to the car after a meal in Kalgoorlie.  I just had to take a picture because it brought back a special memory for me.  This building is off the main street where the beautiful old architecture of Kalgoorlie is protected.  This building, too, makes a statement.  And, so it should.  Individuality.

The memory it brought back is a precious one.

Dr T loved reading to our daughter, and she, a captive audience, hung around his neck like a pendant.  He read to her in infancy and it continued for the next few years.  With nearly a five year gap between our two children, she had our undivided attention.  When he went on sabbatical to Sweden for several months, he recorded stories for her.  Each night for three months she would sit in a small plastic chair, faced the cassette player and listened to her father’s voice.  Oh! how he loved speaking in all the different character voices and she delighted in the variations.  The favourite books for both were Peter Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows and the all time favourite book, The Big Orange Splot by Daniel Marcus Pinkwater.  My daughter credits her strong need for individuality and creativity to The Big Orange Splot.  She still makes references to it and to the time her father read to her.  The bond between them is still as strong as ever.

The Big Orange Splot is a wonderful story about individuality, diversity, acceptance and community.  The message is timeless.  I wish political leaders and parents would read the book!  We would live in different times, if they did.

If you haven’t heard of the book, it’s a wonderful way to spend five minutes on You Tube. The suggestion is my gift to you today.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to RDP Wednesday – BOOK

The Rain Watcher

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Far from home,
the air was warm
the clouds ominous
from within, I looked out
as rivulets poured
into a stream of consciousness
I ignored the thunder
the flash of light
I ignored shelter, mindfully
I sniffed the petrichor
wafting from the ground
it anchored me
at one with earth
I watched the rain
I’m not sure for how long
it may have been a minute
or an hour,
when the rain faded silently into memory
and that flash of light, now a beam
shone brightly
on the book of life
titled Carpe diem

a dawn bird