Wood, Water and Wonderment 6/21/2020

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

When I think of my father I think of wood.  I think of walnut and mahogany.  I think of the sounds of guitar, mandolin and fiddle, not violin, no, definitely fiddle. I think of the wholesome sounds of wood and string mingling. See, my daddy is always surrounded by wood. He’s always loved making things out of wood. In the past several years that has morphed into him making wooden instruments. He has made those guitars, mandolins and fiddles that come to mind when I think of him.  He is forever excited to get some new pristine chunk of wood that he can work with.  We got him a lathe for Christmas and oh my. He is a tad on the obsessed side with it. If he can get it in the lathe it is getting turned. He’s a kid in a candy store of sawdust these days.

Not only does he craft these instruments, he also makes music using them. He plays by ear. He has never been one to read music.  He just sits and plays. It just flows out of him.  He can play piano and guitar quite effortlessly and since he decided to take it upon himself to construct fiddles, he also not long ago took it upon himself to learn how to play them. It was just a matter of fact thing for him. He decided to do it, so he did.

I tease him about his music. When he plays, no matter the instrument or composition, he apparently has a built in filter that paints all his tunes with a twang. Now, if you have any familiarity of music that the south is known for you understand what I mean by twang. I suppose really, if you have ever heard someone who was born and raised in the south talk, you know what twang is. It wouldn’t matter if my dad was playing Bach or Debussy it is going to come out with some sort of lilt that makes it something between country and bluegrass. He just can’t help it.  There is some sort of osmosis that occurs between his brain and his hands upon the strings or keys. That point where things change apparently wears some sort of straw hat and has an old hound sitting beside it…they could be sitting on a front porch or in a barn, I’m not exactly sure. The most elegant symphony when it leaves his fingertips becomes something else entirely full of hay and cornbread. If music can drawl, his definitely does.  I suppose this may be why he never went to the effort to actually read the music. It would just stifle his pronunciation and it wouldn’t be his music without that.  If he played and it didn’t sound like it came directly from the dirt of a peanut field, I wouldn’t know it was him.

Now, the other daddy in my life, my husband and the father of my daughter, when I think of him it isn’t wood that comes to mind. Don’t get me wrong, he can build just about anything be it made of wood or otherwise but no…when I think of him, it’s definitely water that I think of. He isn’t your average “lover of a beach vacation” or something of the sort. No, this man needs water. Needs it.  He may as well be a tree. If we didn’t have a pool we’d have to regularly be at a lake or else he very well could malfunction.  It is something else to watch him in his element.  On the water he is some mixture of sailor, fish and kid on a lakeside rope swing.  He has the skill and dexterity but you cannot avoid seeing that deep seeded, childlike joy in his eyes. He is in his happy place among waves and current.

After my initial thoughts of water though, something comes to mind about him that I don’t know exactly how to name. I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone be able to just masterfully conquer any task at hand. I’ve repeatedly been amazed at his ability to, when faced with something that needs to be designed, built, engineered, structured, planned or executed…he just, does. Even if it is something he hasn’t done before he learns and does. It is downright mind boggling.  Need some sort of manufacturing machine designed and built? Sure, no problem he’ll whip one up. Need a house built in a hurry? Sure, he’ll have it designed and constructed and be done shortly. I do not speak of this from a place of I’m-married-to-him bias either. He is a fountain of ingenuity. Ha, a fountain! He’s a perpetual ocean of savvy, if you will. Because of course he is…water and such.

I’ve told you about the Daddy I was born with and the Daddy I live with now to talk just a bit about fathers in general.  I know not everyone was blessed with a man who took them on ice cream dates like my daddy did when I was little. (Every Friday night we went to Hardee’s and got a cone.  Fancy, I know.) I know not everyone is privileged enough to watch a man love to play in the pool with his daughter followed by wrestling matches every night. (You should see her drop an elbow on him. It’s a thing of beauty. Almost as much as when she fakes an injury to appeal to his soft spot for her, knowing it will allow her to pin him.) I suppose I just wanted to brag about these two daddies. They love their girls and are forever pillars of stability and steadfastness in those little (or not so little in my case) girls’ hearts. But I also wanted to express my supremely insufficient thanks to the Father that we can all share. He chose to bestow upon me the Daddy that I have had since day one and also lead me to the Daddy that was given to my daughter. But besides those gifts, He is the one truly Perfect Father. Despite whatever experience with fatherhood we’ve had, be it good or bad, we can rely on that One that will not fail us or disappoint us. He who knows us better than we know ourselves because, quite frankly He invented us and all that we are to be. Just as telling a wonderful earthly father how loved he is will fall massively short, so too will heaping praise upon Him.  But, just as we should be sure we express our love to all our daddies past and present, we should continue to do the same for Him. He gave us great wooden forests and music. He created vast oceans and powerful rivers. He gave us the ability to create and master all manner of art and industriousness. And, He made sure no matter what, we’d always have a Good Father.