Keeping the lines alive with Dad

Seven weeks have passed since I traded chilly Seattle for this rainy paradise. Tanned and acclimated, I sit here twirling my frizzy blond strands wondering what my father is doing wondering what he’s dreaming of because he must be sleeping at this hour on the mainland.

I have not talked to my dear ol’ dad since I arrived, which is odd due to my situation: in the midst of severe car troubles, which automatically leads to financial disabilities, I am unknowing of a pending contract with PSS, I am living by myself, looking after my own butt, while still trying to hold onto some glimmer of spontaneous youth.

My father is the classic figure and still treats me like his little ballerina, but is always eager to give dissertations on money management, discuss politics; education and most of all give me advice! Like I said, I have not called him. Why? This island sucks you into its humid crevasses and all of a sudden I am lying on Micro Beach hung over after a night of late night writing followed by multiple vodka tonics and random menthol cigarettes, reminding myself that, “Dude, I still have to buy a calling card. Damn!”

I know my dad. He is going through the repetitions of everyday life— thawing chicken for dinner, doing multiple loads of laundry and assisting my mother with her countless hours of real estate work. He is caught up, too. Like everyone is around the world. The typical hustle and constant routine that so many of us get used to, even in the realm of island time.

When the lights went out last night and my head hit the damp sheets, I reminded myself of the little things that touch me and what I need to hear—like the dorky laugh that springs from my dad’s poor lungs every time he makes an extremely cheesy joke or the way he clears his throat before discussing a pressing issue regarding some article he read in Forbes magazine. These are the quirks I used to despise in my selfish and self-righteous teen years. Now I hold them dear.

Many people on Saipan today will be in the company of their dad. They will make him a cake and kiss him on the cheek. They will thank him for all his wisdom, his hard work, his dedication and strength. Others will regret and question their childhood; some will be like me and miss the warmth of a father’s embrace. Whatever the case, there is always a man in someone’s life.

While my dad is thousands of miles away, I can still see him in my mind today. I can picture his beautiful thick eyebrows coming together as he stares at the horizon on his sailboat or the bump on his nose that resembles my own. These are the little things that make life rich and full of sentimental flavor.

Even though we all are caught up and strung along a long line of responsibilities and everyday activities, we always can find the time to say a prayer or give a call to daddy. Come on, now. I will today. Now, where the heck do I buy a calling card? (Cassandra Hamman)