You don't recognize me?
Yes, it's the last century but not that long ago!
In this photograph, I'm frying up some bacon for my dad. My mom had likely just left for work.
My dad being an enterprising chap thought it was about time that a five-year old learn to cook breakfast. As you can see, that's a hot stovetop with a cast iron skillet. What you can't see is the hot, sizzling bacon, and that I'm standing on a stepstool. Like so many memories, I'm not sure if I remembered what happened that morning because of the event itself, the photograph itself, or the family conversations this photo inspired.
At the time, my dad worked from home as a freelance journalist/writer; my mom worked as a high school history teacher. She had to leave pretty early because the high school where she taught was thirty minutes away. My dad's job was to get me to kindergarten. Yeah, you read that right. This was 1975. We were ahead of the curve.
My dad taught me a lot about cooking. Don't cook things too fast; have the right tools; mistakes happen.
Years after that photograph was taken, I moved beyond bacon in a cast iron skillet. I moved beyond my dad's taste in food—I got snooty and probably hurt his feelings. But I was always proud of making that breakfast for my dad. And as I look at this photograph now I realize that, with my own sons, I have a lot to live forward.
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Just so you know, my mom wasn't too crazy about this photo. She saw it as maternal failure rather than what it was: paternal success.
Happy Fathers Day dad!
