Essay 2 Rough Draft Week 8

My Essay 2 Workshop ~ Rough Draft
By: Daye Richardson email: doccottage@yahoo.com
English100 section # 8736 instructor: Lauren Servais

The Day my Dad came home, it may seem a little confusing as to why I am relating this to the story “Shooting Dad” by Sarah Vowell and that somehow I compare myself to her story. Possibly I can help invite you into why I feel it has a relationship to my life; I will begin with the uncountable days I would get up at 6:30am every morning to get ready for the day. The one thing that was always a joy was having breakfast with my Dad at the kitchen table each morning, barely ever missing one. I always finished and hugged my dad goodbye on my way out the door to school.
Every day I came home he was there, of course along with my Mom…if for some reason he wasn’t home he always was shortly thereafter I got home.
My family and friends always looked at me and said that I was “Daddy’s little girl” proud of that I was and I didn’t mind a bit that it was broadcasted to all. I loved my daddy, looked up to him and enjoyed tagging along with him every chance I could.
People who can relate to each other share one or more of the same interests, hobbies, outlooks, ideals or personality traits. Or you can just learn to get along with almost anyone and you never know some of the people someone else knows, at any rate we all have hang-ups. I do believe though that one of the most rewarding things in the world is when you realize you relate well or similarly with someone. It is a great bridge being built and not a hopeless situation that we can relate and enjoy others and they us as well. We don’t automatically understand other people and of course there are millions such as Sarah and her Dad who don’t understand how to get along but there are millions out there who can and do. We need to grow in our understanding for people, just as we don’t individually just become for example a pianist, there are insights and principles to understand and practice just as there are in getting along with people. The best place to start is with ourselves, by taking inventory of our own personality traits and attitudes and this is because the feelings we have down deep about ourselves influence how we feel about others.
Human beings have several basic
emotional needs, including the feeling
that one belongs, that he is loved,
and that he is a worthwhile person. ~ unknown

We must remember to accept people “As is”, the problem occurs when we tend to want a person to change. We can learn to focus on their strengths and not their weaknesses. One last thing on this thought, people sense whether we are being honest or not and there are aspects of honesty that make the difference whether you get along with a person or you don’t.
It certainly just seems like yesterday to me when the news came, they were shipping my dad over-seas for 2 years. “I thought mom was kidding, right…Their not taking my dad, he won’t go! We won’t let him! I couldn’t believe it not for days, weeks, until the day came and he was gone, Gone!! I sunk, I knew at that moment I wasn’t going to see my Dad, of course I couldn’t even contemplate two years, I couldn’t get past tomorrow. But, two years, not seeing my Dad, no more breakfast together talking about our days, joking around, empty I sat…I couldn’t wrap myself around the thought no more hugs before I left for school.
Months I would lay in bed every morning when I woke up knowing I wouldn’t see my Dad downstairs, his face, his hug… twenty minutes would pass daily and my mom would call me finally, “Daye”! You won’t have time for breakfast, I didn’t eat at the table for six months after he left, I didn’t care but I got up anyway knowing I had to leave for school in 30 minutes.
Somehow when I got to school as hard as it was to smile for days otherwise my friends always made it easier.
I relate my story and myself a lot to Sarah Vowell, my family was the same I had a sister who never had anything in common with my Dad as far as activities like I did and also unlike Sarah and her sister, my sister and I received equal attention. We both grew up like Sarah, in a home where we were free to make our own choices and voice our own opinions, not living in town the same as Sarah, we grew up on a ranch in the Columbia Gorge Oregon population 25,000 if you count the animals (that was a joke we passed around town just to chuckle). Our property resembled Sarah’s families as it also included an orchard, horse pasture although on 20 acres which Sarah only had 2 acres of woods and our property was all pasture land.
We also were not much of a political family per-say that we partitioned off territories, but yet my era was much different then Sarah’s yet very similar lifestyles as far as Dad being the center of our home. Also my dad and I had our differences at times with different view-points but we didn’t collide as often as Sarah with her father, although my sister and my dad never seemed to see the same eye on anything, but somehow we all managed to sit and eat and talk with compassion.
I believe a lot of my feelings of similarity to Sarah come from our fathers living very self-absorbed our whole lives in their own interests, one of my dad’s also being guns but, yet he always tried somehow to include us in his interests, differently then Sarah though he enjoyed sharing our interests as well. I didn’t grow up with antlers on my walls but many guns and rifles of all varieties lined them. Dad’s shop wasn’t messy but he definitely enjoyed having his own space, just as I did mine. My domain similar to Sarah’s but called the “Peach Room” where all walls, curtains, bed spread were painted peach and my trim cream. My sister much different she liked blue. Oh, yeah, similar in the sense that I too like musical instruments; piano, drum set, guitars and other doodads as well. Funny, I can say that now without skipping a beat, as where before even saying a word that had “dad” in it would bring me to my knees sobbing.
My sister and I also never had to be the up-talkers to impress suitors such as Sarah did, but he sure liked to show off his prize possession guns and then my sister and I. I also don’t remember a time my sister and I didn’t like to go shooting with my Dad unless we were sick, we did love Dad!!
So, as Sarah’s dad was building his replica of the cannon called the “big horn gun” his most elaborate tool of death, my father too was a man that would putter in his space called “the shop”, I would sneak out every chance I got to hang with my Dad, but my mom didn’t like me out there much, she said, his verbal expressions would get away from him. My time was always cut short from the “the shop”, and we didn’t have a long history of nefarious ancestors as Sarah did but we seem to be a little piece of everything under the sun.
My great moments I shared with my dad were also some of the same as Sarah; although my dad never had to change my mind about guns…It sometimes worried me when he pulled the trigger the gun always got bigger and the BOOM ~ louder! Oh, and not to mention I love music…Sarah Vowell!! I too had many Awe Hah…moments when I would think, Oh, My God, My dad and I am the same person and I liked it, well so did my sister.
September 13, 1987, on my 16th birthday, I woke up and lay in my bed for twenty minutes just like any other day when I would have been jumping to my feet and full of energy excited for My Birthday day, not this year. I still felt the pain from a year ago, the day dad left. My mom in the background faintly, I hear “Daye” you are not going to have time for breakfast and again as usual I wasn’t hungry for it, but today mom made my favorite eggs in the middle of toast. I sat down not any more radiant then I was prior I slowly put the fork to my mouth and noticed a note with my name on it, puzzled I opened the official looking envelope and inside a small hand-printed paragraph…”My darling daughter, Daye..I love you so much “Happy Birthday” and I will see you soon, Love Dad. Dad is coming home, to me? Soon!! I instantly rose, yelled “Yippee” ran out the door and my day was bright, my feet skipping, my heart racing the world was changing and my dad was coming back home!! Maybe at this point, I felt more like Chang-rae Lee in “Coming Home Again”, we would gather around the table again and share breakfast, how our day went and be a family together again!
All my friends, today on my birthday saw the spark, the gleam the joy of happiness radiating from and knew…my dad was going to be home soon! When, I see him they all knew I would throw my arms around him as I always did and he knew and give him the biggest hug until it hurt!!
Reference:
1. Servais, L., professor. (n.d.). Shooting Dad [Chapter Four]. In English 100
College Reading & Writing (pp. 19-23). Santa Rosa, Ca: LAD Publishing, Inc. . . .
Tracking number SRJ0198

2. Servais, L., Professor. (n.d.). Coming Home Again [Chapter Three]. In English
100 College Reading & Writing (pp. 11-18). Santa Rosa, CA: LAD Publishing, Inc. . . .
Tracking number: SRJ0198

3. Narramore, C. M., Dr. (1998-2011). Psychology for living (Version Narramore
Christian Foundation) [Data file]. Retrieved from http://www.ncfliving.org/
bk_123_relate4.php