Every Little Thing by April Jeppson

 

Growing up, I remember my father being a park ranger in the summer and then taking care of us in the winter. Over Christmas break we’d have ramen and slap sandwiches (one piece of bread with some peanut butter slapped on). If you’ve never tried this delicious combination of PB with your ramen, I highly recommend it.

He taught us how to use chopsticks to eat our ramen. So here my brother and I were, sitting at our table with my dad, chopsticks in one hand, a slap sandwich in the other, as we lean over our steaming bowls of ramen. It’s one of my most distinct and happy childhood memories with my dad.

As I got older, my father would come home from work before my mother and just about lose his mind to find us not done with our chores. It was worse if he came in and saw that we hadn’t even started yet. As a kid you always think your parents need to settle down, but I truly felt confused at how upset he got over something so menial.

Later, he learned that his stint in Vietnam gave him post-traumatic stress disorder. He took an early retirement and was advised to avoid stressful situations. In Vietnam, people would die if you didn’t do what you were told ASAP. So here’s my father, yelling at my brother and I over dishes that weren’t finished. My father reacting as if people are going to die because we didn’t do them right away. Now it made sense. Lots of things made sense.

He bought a new boat for his mental health. I’m sure my mom was thrilled. My high school days are filled with memories of my father fishing. One weekend while I was off in college, my father’s fishing partner couldn’t make a tournament. My dad called me up, and I happily agreed to be his fishing buddy. It also happened to be Father’s Day weekend, so I’m not sure if that had anything to do with his partner’s selection process -— either way, I’m glad he picked me.

We didn’t catch as many as we would’ve liked that day and were about to call it quits. My father told me to reel it in right as I was struggling with either a really angry weed, or a nice-sized bass. Thankfully, it was the latter. That 5-pounder brought me the largest fish trophy and helped us sneak into third place.

If he wasn’t fishing, he was filling his free time by helping someone. So and so needs their deck fixed, what’s-his-face needs some trees taken down on his property. No matter what day it was, my father was always up and at ’em. My dad turns 70 this year, and he’s still the busiest man I know.

He was the guy I could watch action movies with. He’d get goosebumps over something exhilarating, look over at me and proclaim, “Oh, I’ve got goosebumps!” To this day, any time my husband and I watch a good action flick, I call my father up and recommend it. In fact, there are movies I have to re-watch with my dad, just so I can see his reaction.

Unbeknownst to me, he disliked my first boyfriend. Later, I found out he shed tears over it — letting his little girl go, watching her grow up and allowing her make choices of her own. Thankfully for all parties involved, I only dated him for a month or two. I did not need my father to forbid me from dating this guy. I was raised well enough that I figured it out on my own.

In fact, once my dad received proper medical treatment for his PTSD, I saw him cry often. To see my dad cry after holding his newest granddaughter, or to have my son fall asleep on his lap, it showed me that men have feelings. To watch my father slowly put his leathery hardworking hand up to his face to cover his eyes for a second while he tries to maintain composure makes me tear up just thinking about it.

My dad is a hard-working, movie-loving, beard-growing, fish-frying, wood-working, suspender-wearing, Marine forever, Chinese food-eating, bass-fishing man. He is the best.

I love you, Dad.

Albert Lean April Jeppson is a wife, mom, coach and encourager of dreams.