My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.
4. Be Playfully Mischievous
I'm not sure I can illustrate this lesson clearly, but here goes. It is more the way my mother tells the story than the facts of the story that tell the tale. My mother is not and never has been a morning person. She does well to drag herself out of bed and make a pot of coffee. Somewhere between the first and second pot, she will become somewhat awake and mildly social. She would sit, head in hand at the kitchen table - internally fighting her way into the day. My dad would always offer a cheerful "Morning Lib!" and lean over and give her a kiss. She would fain a greeting and turn back to her coffee. There was however a wickedly playful side to my father for at some random and totally unpredictable occasions he would lean over to kiss my mother and instead, playfully tap her under her breast. This always startled her and - as she would tell it even today - cause her to be aggravated to the point of amusement.
I believe it was the impish intent of his actions that always charmed her. Void of any ill, he was often playfully mischievous. He kept all of us one our toes and smiling.
Your story reminds me of my grandfather. He would frequently do similar things, like when he used a broomstick to push the test button on the connected smoke detectors at my folks house early one morning and acted innocent when we all suspected him. :) We knew he did it, he knew he did it, and although it was never confirmed...we laugh about it uncontrollably whenever we think of him. That was just one of his antics...but the stories of them bring me joy to this day...it is those memories that are powerful beyond the years. Those 'you had to be there to get why I am crying as I laugh it was so funny!' moments that make life truly worth living.
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