Why Are You Doing It Like That?

Sometime later today, probably around 5 p.m., I'll drive the short two miles over to my Mom and Dad's house to watch The Super Bowl along with my brother. Somewhere in the last five or six years it has become a bit of a tradition. Sure we usually get together for the occasional holiday, but those are somewhat mandatory and planned. The Super Bowl thing somehow just happened over time. There is no elaborate food spread, no huge party, we don't even order a pizza. We just sit and enjoy the game and watch the commercials.

The four of us (Mom is the biggest sports fan of all) usually root for the same team and usually for the same reason. We'll all probably cheer for the Colts because we can't stand Jeremy Shockey and Reggie Bush.

This year will a little more special because it will be my 74th Dad's birthday.

When I was a kid it always seemed that my older brother was off doing something with his friends, my sister curled up in her room reading a book, and my younger brother was..., well he was just younger. So when Dad needed help with a project he would elicit my help. I spent many hours holding boards, handing him tools, and cleaning up afterwards.

I was able to learn a lot of things by osmosis. I would ask him "Why are you doing it like that?" Dad wouldn't exactly stop and explain things as he'd go along, but he would point out a hint or two. I found out much later why he was like that. When I work on a project and my wife is the one helping me, she always asks "Why are you doing it like that?" I don't answer and just keep working, because it is easier and quicker to show her than tell her. Much like my father and me.

I inherited his appreciation of natural wood. Unfortunately I only inherited about 10% of his ability to transform wood into virtually any shape or form that he wants. I can remember watching him carve a block of wood into an object of art with little effort, usually while watching television. Or take wood he harvested from an old closet shelf and turn it into a toy chest for a co-worker. To this day I find it virtually impossible to throw away the smallest scrap of wood, full knowing the value of how it can used for a future project.

Something I did learn was photography. Dad built a worktable that converted the bathroom into a makeshift darkroom. The table ran across the sink and the toilet, and the tub was used as a wash. We could only work in there a couple of hours at a time because invariably someone would need to use the bathroom. Although the tools have changed dramatically, I still use many of the basic things he taught me in those short hours.

Now that we are all older, my Dad still calls me when he needs help with a project. Only now the roles have changed. I'm the one standing on the ladder, he's the one handing me the tools. And ever so often, he'll ask me the question, "Why are you doing it like that?" I just reply, "Because that's the way you taught me."