Mirror image.

It was not uncommon for Dad to emphasize his point with a raised eyebrow. It is one of the expressions I miss most.

I, too, can (and often do) raise one brow while lowering the other. My expression mirrors Dad's: he raised his right eyebrow; I raise my left. I have tried to raise my right brow, but I cannot.

A few days ago, I gave my son the raised eyebrow. To my surprise, his right brow shot up in answer.

For an instant, I saw the reflection of his Poppa. Just as I mirrored my father, my son mirrors me.

Taking Chance.

Tonight, I was completely absorbed in a movie recently produced by HBO. Taking Chance is the actual account of an officer escorting the body of a Marine killed in action in Iraq back home to his parents. Despite the grim subject matter, it is a heartwarming story of respect and patriotism. I wanted to call Dad and discuss it immediately. Then I wondered if Dad would have watched it at all. He did not watch war movies. I think having seen the live-action version in person permanently colors your vision towards such things, and Dad was no exception.

But Taking Chance is not a war movie. It is remarkably a-political. It is not about the causes, only the ultimate consequences. And if he had watched it, Dad would have appreciated all the details. Even the ones that hurt me to watch. Dad would have appreciated the cleaning, preservation, and presentation of the personal effects and remains of the fallen. He would have told me far more details than I didn't know I didn't want to know about the process. He would have reminded me, again, that too much of our knowledge of forensics has been learned from wartime casualties.

I share this because Dad would have most appreciated the respect and dignity with which the fallen soldiers are treated in this movie. Considering the less than warm reception veterans of Vietnam often received upon their re-entry into society, it would be easy to understand if Dad did not want anything to do with the military, ever. That was not the path he chose. He was a proud member (and former president of the local chapter) of the Veterans of Foreign War. He was supportive of soldiers and his fellow veterans, regardless of the circumstances which led to their deployment.

I may not always understand or support our country's military actions, but I do know that each and every service member who has ever fought to defend the flag of our nation is a hero.

Proverbial Wisdom

Despite my love of reading, I don't devour books the way Dad did. At least, not since I've had children. Still, I'm currently reading a series of books that has utterly consumed my attention. A few days ago, I ran across a Scottish proverb that really spoke to me.

It's a wise bairn that kens its father.

I had to smile when I read it, because I really did know my father. There have been a lot of occasions to wonder what Dad would think about a certain subject, or what he would do. A few times, I've thought my first instinct might not be right, but a quick double-check with someone else who knew Dad well confirms my original thought. And a few months ago, when I was struggling with a difficult decision, it was my husband who spurred me out of my quandary with a seemingly simple question, "What would your Dad do?"

And no, I might not have always agreed with Dad, and I might not choose to do what he would do... but I have a really good idea of what it would be.

I'm so glad Dad shared so much of himself with us. We are wise for it.

Parades, Pies, and Pipers.

When we lived in Starkville, I had heard of Mardi Gras. I thought it was something that only happened in New Orleans. I was wrong. Mardi Gras is a big deal here - all along the Gulf Coast, most definitely not just in New Orleans.  And we are now deep in Mardi Gras season. 

I don't think Dad ever went to any of the parades that roll through our little town, but he certainly enjoyed the spoils of our attendance. For those of you not familiar with the lingo that is now so familiar to us, let me explain a few things. Mardi Gras parades are done by societies or "krewes" who dress in elaborate costumes, ride amazing floats, and shower those lined along the parade route with "throws." In addition to the ubiquitous beads, "throws" can include anything from tiny plastic toys to enormous stuffed animals to candy and other edibles. Here in our area, Moon Pies are legendary. 

In years past, my daughters would gather up the Moon Pies they caught and proudly present them to their Poppa. Dad loved Moon Pies. He almost unfailingly made reference to "an RC cola" as the perfect accompaniment to them (though, not surprisingly, he usually actually ate them with a Coke). Last year, I wondered what we would do with the extra treats, only to discover that Poppa's grandson shares his love of the Moon Pie.  In fact, even the girls have come to enjoy them, especially given the flavor that has just debuted: Peanut Butter.

Peanut Butter was more than just a staple in Dad's diet-

it was a food group. I can't believe Dad died before the advent of the Peanut Butter Moon Pie. They would have earned a special place in Dad's heart. That is, if he ever got to try one. The kids aren't so generous with these - Poppa would have had to catch his own.

And another thing about our parades: there are bagpipers. Dad planned to learn to play the bagpipes one day, but he never did. Last year, I reached for my phone to dial Dad and let him hear the pipers as they passed us. The reality that I couldn't do that anymore was simply overwhelming - not just for me, but for all of the friends standing with me when it happened. The sound of those pipes tore through me much as the trumpet playing taps at Dad's funeral had. I thought then I might never enjoy hearing bagpipes again. 

Mercifully, I was wrong. This year, I could not only smile, but shout in support as the pipers passed. And just as they joined me in tears last year, my friends joined me smiling and shouting.  Dad's oldest grand-daughter noticed a woman among the pipers the other night, and she says she wants to play the bagpipes one day. Poppa would be so proud to have a piper.