People can be pretty darn wonderful. Yes, this really is Annaliese.
Aw that is so sweet!
Sometimes I wonder what small things like that's kid will remember...
This is beautiful. Thank you. :-)
And translucent plastic mermaids designed to hook over the edge of the glass with their tails in your drink. When my parents went to Pearl Lake Supper Club for dinner, or when my dad took clients to dinner there, I got mermaids.
I wish now I'd thought to stage duels: monkeys against mermaids, both armed with swords.
my parents would bring back little gifts like that as well. something small, like a gum ball, or a toy from one of those machines, one of the plastic swords, a neat swizzle stick, fancy chop sticks, give away bento boxes, and always some sort of garnish for the guinea pigs. it seemed so neat, those little gifts.
Saved them for you and woke you up to give them to you late at night. What a brave man. :)
Your father sounds like he was a great dad. This reminded me of a time when my father took me all by myself without my three brothers to a swap meet. I remember he held my hand as we walked and bought me a little stuffed monkey that had velcro hands. My dad was a very quiet man who I didn't know very well, so it seemed like a very special day that he would take me some place all on my own.
Oma would bring me the little paper-wrapped sugar cubes German restaurants kept on the table for coffee. Grampy would sometimes send us a letter on hotel stationary. When my dad started traveling to Texas a lot in the 80s, I'd joke "bring me back an armadillo" and sometimes, he would. One that could grip my pen, another lovely stuffed animal. I still have the t-shirt with an armadillo on the front and the back.
Magic happens all the time. It's nice to look back and appreciate it.
I loved this - thanks for sharing it
My mom and I send each other the "sickness" bags from planes as tokens of our travels. We also take the stationary from hotels and send each other letters. I love getting stationary and envelopes from Thailand or Nepal. You're right, it is the little things.
Oh, thank you--this really brought back memories of my dad.
He was a salesman for a company that made grinding equipment and abrasives, so he often took clients to dinner. He'd bring me back plastic swords, or (as Lois and I reminisce above) plastic monkeys or mermaids; a pair of tiny basswood boxes with Japanese characters wood-burned into them, from the table of a fancy Japanese restaurant in Chicago; little paper drink umbrellas. He also went to trade shows and returned with show booth swag for me. I still have, and treasure, the tiny all-metal retracting tape measure. And from the factory floor at work, he brought home magnets and ball bearings for me.
I was happy about those things at the time. Now I think about it from his point of view: in the midst of his work, remembering his little girl at home and bringing her a token of that moment. In my dad's generation, men didn't say "I love you" very often, and he was true to that. But I realize now how much he loved, and how much he didn't say out loud.
God, I miss him.
2013-10-07 05:10 pm (UTC)
It´s indeed the little things that count. :)
YES! Let the dueling commence!
I loved reading this post.