Monday, October 24, 2005

Brown Paper Bags

I had some crazy allergies when I was growing up. At one point, mom and dad had to get rid of my stuffed friends that weren't all natural fibers and I spent a good bit of time in the hospital. When I got out, I still had to go in for shots twice a week. It just became easier to get my shots at home, and so dad practiced on oranges... and I got my shots - sans post-poke lollypops - in the comfort of my pajamas.

Daddy knew I hated needles. And he did his best to help me forget about them. He would sing me songs, tell me stories, or pull out a toy to play with me. My favorite memory, though, is the one with the paper bag.

After my weekly innoculations, daddy took out a brown paper bag and drew on it with my crayons. Then he took a pair of scissors and cut up the middle of the bag, cut a hole in the bottom, and two holes in the side. Still teary eyed from the shots, he carefully put my arms through the holes and slipped on my new brown paper vest. He slung me on his hip, put on a smile, and sang to me while he held up my good arm and we danced around the living room. My other arm still hurt like hell, but I looked pretty damn sweet in my new brown vest... and dancing was hell of a lot better than sitting in the car with a lollypop in my mouth. Daddy's always good at making me feel better.

So when he called me Friday and asked how I was doing... and I told him... he sent me this:

"Do you still remember the story about the two frogs that got trapped in a deep hole that daddy read for you when you were young?

Two frogs while wondering around fell in a deep hole. After a few unsuccessful tries to get out, one of them cried and keep crying, crying: “We are going to die here! The sun is hot! It’s not going to rain! No one will rescue us! Our skin will dry out! Ants are going to eat our meat up and we will leave only our skeletons!!!” And he cried for all the kinds of bad things that he could think of.

The second frog was much more stronger mentally. While trying to calm the other one down, he kept thinking hard to find a way to get out. He wanted them both to rest for a while to regain their strength. After the crying frog had calmed down, he asked the him to blow up his belly as big as possible. He got on the crying frog back and with all of his energy he jumped up and barely caught the edge of the hole and climbed out. He used a rope to pull the other one up, and they went home.

Hieu, the point of this story is don’t let yourself be sad. Be strong, and keep looking for a solution to any problem that you face."


20 some odd years later, and 400 miles away, my daddy still finds a way to make it not hurt as much as it does. Like my little paper bag vest, his emails make me feel all kinds of better. Daddies are the best.

2 comments:

dayoldfish said...

your Dad is a wiseman

Tygriss said...

yes.. yes he is.