Remembering Dad and replenishing the Well.

29 Feb

Marie Joseph Academy on the Mid Maine coast.

Well this was supposed to be just a short little post since I worked til late, enjoyed Date Night and… hold the presses, am working again tomorrow.  All of which requires a fair bit of creativity.  But as sometimes happens it got away from me a bit.  It’s the Eve of  March and it makes me think of my Dad.  His and my birthday’s are but 3 days apart and it got me thinking about the well where creativity comes from and how to make sure it doesn’t run dry.  I’m gonna have to figure out how to get more rest since I thinks that’s part of the replenishing.
One of my High Schools… MJA
This is the place where I started to learn to play the guitar, to write and to figure out the meaning of friendship beyond the bonds of family.  It holds a special meaning in my life.  It’s where I went when we were all still reeling from 9/11.  It’s where I met my wife, one town and one bay over on the Maine coast.  It still rings of destiny to me.  It is still part of the deep well that sustains me and why I return as often as possible.
More than once it was my Dad who drove me back to school, just a few hours up from the Massachusetts coast.  One of those times, he drove me and my new first step-mother up to watch the same beach I had walked countless times.  It was a new relationship for him and he wrote the poem below. He then deemed it not good enough, crumpled it up and tossed it into the back seat.  I immediately snagged it and kept it, astonished at the beauty, romance and poetry of the words.  He never knew I kept it and eventually put a tune to the words.

MJA from a distance

My career Navy dad and I never quite saw eye to eye after my younger sister was born and supplanted me as Daddy’s little girl.  I think I was a puzzle to him as he grew older, more conservative and religious and I more liberal and accepting of different as the years went by.  I know that he loved me and was proud of who I had become considering where I had come from.  One of my cousins let me know this shortly after Dad passed.  Thanks Frank, that meant more than you could ever know!

Me and Zelda hanging on the Maine coast.

I was always sorry that he only met Elizabeth once.  I remain convinced to this day if he could have gotten to know my Elizabeth, he would have understood me and my life choices much better.  He would have adored her.  He had the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever know, and it’s a big part of what I inherited from him.  The poem below reveals another part of what I got from my Dad.

THE WAVE         Words by Robert J McCarty Sr. July 1972   Music by Weez  1975

The grand old wave that hits the shore
To get all you people wet
That have come to adore
It splashes it’s spray to Heaven above
Just to let you know
You have all my love
Some day you will look across the shore
To watch as it comes for
It stayed in a land
From across the way
To leap and bound
till it breaks in spray
To stop and stay and last forever
This wonderful wave that comes to say
I want again to be with you
This wave of mine
dims all of time                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      This wave is you
Hey Dad, thanks for the gift of life, poetry and romance.  I miss you and can still hear your voice in my head talking all things Red Sox!  Especially now that Spring Training has arrived!  Ah, Baseball another of my replenishers.

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