Today I cleaned out a drawer that should have been cleaned out two years ago.  It had all sorts of nails, screws, and misc hardware in it that we acquired when we moved into the house.  Sometimes I’m amazed at the level of ick I’m other people are willing to ignore!

So my method of dealing with this nasty drawer was to sort through all the metal type stuff and either throw it away or shove it in a can.  I happened to have a nice empty can on the counter waiting to go out to the recycling, which worked out perfectly.  After cleaning a while it dawned on me:  I’ve officially become my dad.


My dad was an awesome guy.  He was hardworking, always helping someone, loved God, and he thought I was awesome.  What more could you ask for in a dad?  He grew up in poverty and one of the things he learned was saving.  He saved everything. And I mean  Later in his life he had Alzheimer’s, so he saved even more things!   I remember sorting through some of his stuff and finding napkinsrandom ones, from restaurants, weddings, etc.

Anyways, in his workshop he had coffee cans.  Shelves full of coffee cans.  A few plastic jugs were also interspersed (with the tops cut off to enable more storage).  The cans and jugs were filled with screws, nails, and tons of other miscellaneous things.  One of his famous sayings (which eventually became a family joke) is when you’d ask to borrow something  he’d say he wasn’t sure where it was because he “put it up somewhere.”  This “put is up somewhere” phrase meant he had no clue where it was but he’d eventually find it, often long after you no longer needed it.  

When I saw my can filled with metal miscellany it hit me…he and I are definitely related.  

It’s an honor to be related to him.  I can pack a box, vehicle, suitcase, etc. like a champion.  I used to say my dad could pack an entire apartment into a pinto (the car, not the horse).  From him I received my love for people as well as my sense of humor; while the nature of my humor is different from Dad’s my humorous streak comes from his branch of my family tree (he loved practical jokes, where I have an affinity for sarcasm).  But I also inherited his ability to save.  and save.  and save.  Ridiculously random things that I’m sure will be needed someday.  (And they are needed just enough to reinforce the habit.)

However, I would like to point out an important distinction:  My can is not a coffee can.  It’s a panko crumb can.  A panko crumb can filled with crap miscellaneous important things is way cooler than a coffee can filled with crap miscellaneous important things.  So I’m totally different from my dad.  Definitely not a pack rat.  (And no, you do not need to ask my husband.)



So here’s to Dad.  I love you, miss you, and would give anything for a few more days with you.  And I am most definitely your girl.  🙂



4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. gwen lasher
    Nov 21, 2013 @ 06:32:54

    He was one who loved kids and that has brushed off to you He was a wonderful dad and a great husband I miss him too every day but we will see him again when we all get to heaven


  2. Dawn
    Mar 13, 2014 @ 13:55:50

    Loved this! There is something special between fathers and daughter who get and love each another. I miss my Daddy wrenchingly some days and will forever be his little girl. I miss hearing him and Mom call me Marie…. there is no one left now who calls me that name….seems like a silly thing to miss, but I do. Thanks for the post!


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