My father was an avid reader and great storyteller with a rare ability to spin the facts he acquired into tales. His imagination and his own sense of drama made life interesting. During school vacations and frequent travels, we sat in the evenings together and he would hold us spellbound.
His objects of study were woven into our lives. Generations of cats had been named
Sheba and
Hephzibah. Hundreds of books lined the shelves in his rooms the titles as diversified, as my father’s many interest. I remember sitting in these rooms reading. As I remember his love of books, I feel close to him. There is a special geniality about places were discussions and perhaps storytelling takes place, nestled before a fire in comfortable chairs.
Today, I celebrate the 100th anniversary of his birth. Alas, the rooms of books are gone, as is my father. Oh, how I miss his stories.
I look forward to finding, and creating, stories of my own. As I draw up my favorite chair, I invite you to join me.
4 comments:
Thank you, Schwesterlein, for remembering my beloved Tata so movingly. You have inherited his gift for telling a story and we are grateful for this.
Much love….
C4N
“Ach der Hans, der kanns,” how many women have uttered these words? Too many? Never! He was a joy to know, and love.
How gracious of you to remember him so lovingly.
Tak, for Mama.
O, Doris. My heart aches remembering your beloved father. Beloved by so many, and rightfully so. It is a shame, that they broke the mold after his generation was born. He created and inhabited a world that barely exists today. Sic transit Gloria mundi.
A lament for the Life we lost and admission that it had to go …
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