Father's Day Refections

They were cracked and dirty, out-of-shape, and usually had one or two holes. My dad’s work gloves were as much a part of him as were his hands and his laughter. Under the dirt and grease, soot and blood, you could just make out their original yellow colour. They were everywhere: in his truck, in his garage, on the bale stack and in his coat pocket – everywhere he worked. The stains told the story of his labour: dirt from the field, grease from his tractor, soot from the branding fires and blood from dehorning cattle. The rips and tears were created when mending fence. Life for the farmer was one chore after another, and Dad’s gloves were his constant companion. All the years I was growing up, I don’t remember ever seeing a new pair, although surely there must have been.

Some time ago, I saw a picture someone had taken of her dad’s old, worn-out work gloves sitting on a wood pile. She had enlarged and framed this picture. The photographer said this was her best memory of her Dad and that she had taken this picture of his gloves shortly after he had died. I don’t know what happened to Dad’s work gloves. I wish I had thought of taking a picture like that. It’s funny which memories stay with you and how they become identified with that person.

The other day it occurred to me that my son has gloves everywhere as well. He has a pair in his bedroom, in his vehicle and in the garage. I find pairs of gloves by the back door, and out on the deck. His gloves tell of a different kind of labour, but, like his grandfather, he wears them whenever he works. Like his grandfather’s gloves, the stains tell the story of his chores – motorcycle oil, grass stains, and paint and saw dust from his many projects. Although only two when his grandfather died, he has developed the same habit of always having several pairs of work gloves at his disposal. And perhaps, some day - far into the future - when he marries and has children, his daughter will savour that special memory of her dad and his work gloves. Maybe she’ll think to save a pair of gloves and take a picture of them.

If your Dad is still with you to share Father’s Day, enjoy the day and savour every moment. If he, like my Dad, is no longer with us, remember what it was that made your Dad special. Take time to reflect on what it is you remember most about him, even if it is something as simple as cracked and dirty work gloves.  Celebrating your dad . . . it's a good thing!