Salt of the Earth

     There isn’t a stranger that my dad doesn’t know and love. The truth of the matter is this; my dad has the uncanny ability to walk into a gas station in another state and walk out with not only a free soda but be able to tell us that (fill in stranger’s name) is celebrating his 10th anniversary this weekend but it has been soured by the fact that he is fighting with his wife about last year’s gift…It is also important to note that he won’t tell us who (fill in stranger’s name) is he will just tell the story like we should automatically know who he is talking about. My dad has always had this secret power over people to instantly put them at ease and make them feel safe and loved and that they can open up to him about anything. In fact, on a recent visit to my office my dad, in his faded worn out cords and snap up the front western plaid shirt, waited in my office while I ran to the restroom. I came back to find him surrounded by my co-workers telling them stories of his trips to Guam. When he left my co-workers all reported how they “felt an instant connection with my dad” and how he had the “perfect cowboy voice all gravely and such”. That is when it hit me…my dad is the Salt of the Earth. Here I have been living with him my whole life not knowing what I had.

     I take that back…I have known what I have and I’m very grateful for him. I’m grateful that my dad taught me the importance of work…that others talk about solutions but we Seelos’ just get it done. My dad is always the first one to pitch in and help, in fact, we joke that now that he is ‘retired’ he is busier then when he had a full time job. Whether he is working on his kid’s projects or the widows that he watches out for my dad usually leaves his own yard and house until last. There are times when I know that my dad’s old neighbors (Fred, George and Vern) are looking down from heaven and are lifting him up as he works in their wives yards, trimming trees and mending fences. If you were to peer into my dad’s closet you would see that he has more work clothes, with rips and tears in the knees, then he has nice clothes. This just exhibits my dad’s whole attitude. My mom used to joke that my dad goes out to greet his garden and work in the compost pile before he would even say hi to her and it’s true. When you visit my parent’s house and if you see the back door open you know to walk straight through and look for my dad’s head bobbing behind the fence. Or you will walk out and see him on his hands and knees weeding some part of the yard with the sweat dripping off the end of his nose and his tongue stuck out (which shows he is concentrating on his work). If you listen really closely you will hear him quietly talking to himself or counting his actions…he does this subconsciously and many times does it when he is reading a book as well.

     My dad has a passion for working with his hands. From a young age he would take me on a walk around the yard to see what was blooming or where needed tending. This is a tradition that I carry on today, to the point that Anna often sees me on the walk around our yard and hurries to my side knowing this is my form of heaven and wanting to be there with me. My dad could tell you every plants name and make sure to point out the tiniest details that others would pass by without noticing. As my dad is a little hyperactive and moves from project to project, there is always a pile of branches to be collected or weeds to be dumped in the back of his well worn truck; a truck which has traveled to the dump more times in a year than many people go in a lifetime. When I was on my mission in Guatemala I would sometimes hear the deep roar of a diesel engine and even though I knew it was impossible I would turn in the direction of the sound expecting to see my dad because the sound of his truck seemed so inseparable from him. As you take these walks around the garden with my dad it will often feel like you have stepped into a Disney movie with birds flying to light on the fence above him singing a sweet melody knowing he will be digging in the dirt or the squirrel chirping his hello. Nature however has been known to turn on my dad and usually it is in the form of stinging insects. No one will forget when he was “attacked” by a swarm of bees and while trying to literally step on the bees flying around his head shouted to my mom and brother to “save themselves”…what a martyr.

     My dad often traveled a lot when I was a child which at times was difficult but as I look back at my childhood I don’t remember him not being there rather I remember him reading to Becki and I from Disney’s joke book and how he would make us laugh so hard when he would very enthusiastically tell us what the flower said to the bee….“BOO BEE”. I remember Becki and I being shocked at the bottom of the stairs as we looked up to see my dad mooning us from the top stair. I remember going on trips with my dad and him teaching me to hold my drink on bumpy roads so my arms acted like shocks and wouldn’t spill the drink and listening to Louis L’amour books. I remember sleeping in the back of his truck at Father’s and Son’s and him telling me stories about his childhood and his pet pot belly pig. I remember him cutting off his fingers as he showed me (with his safety first shirt on) how to use the saw so I wouldn’t cut my fingers off. I remember him crying as he built a coffin for Liza and Kitsy and although he was breaking inside, he was the strong one who stayed with them until the end.

     Lest you think my dad a saint he’s not perfect nor would ever claim to be…one thing my dad is and always will be is humble. My dad does have a temper that can be like a match under a propane tank that once lit can take over the world. Anything can trigger it; from a perceived offense to a potato that won’t hold still while he tries to cut it at Sunday dinner. As kids we knew that if our dad was mad at us it did us no good to lock ourselves in the bathroom because my dad’s temper would flare and grow as he took hinges off to get to us. That is one thing about my dad’s temper…it flares like lighting but dwindles like a slow moving storm. The saddest part is that all four of us kids inherited this temper and taking things personal (me more than most) and just like him, we work on a daily basis to give this weakness to back to God.

     Sure my dad isn’t perfect and has other quirks as well. Take the fact that he can’t hold still for longer than 5 seconds…this isn’t an exaggeration we actually tried it one night because my dad’s fingers are constantly tapping, stroking, drumming you name it. Sure he held his fingers still but soon we noticed his toes had started tapping and dancing to the unseen rhythm in his head. He also has this subconscious whistle every time a baby comes within fifty feet of him. It is almost as if his joy refuses to stay contained and his love is spilling out between his lips.

     I think that this is the thing you need to know about my dad more than anything. My dad knows how to love and isn’t ashamed to show it. Whether it is through tears as he talks about my mom or through his arms wrapping around us in bear hugs, my dad knows what love is. There are times when he catches people by surprise in a big hug or much more comically in a slap on the butt before he realizes this person isn’t his immediate family. I have had a chance in my lifetime to witness countless acts of love from my dad that come in various forms from trimming trees to seeing him hold my mom in our kitchen in front of the stove as he arrives home from work (this is such a vivid memory to me). I have seen my dad stand in a humble home in Guatemala with tears streaming down his face as he sang “Because I Have Been Given Much” with Josafina and Marco Tulio Doniz. My dad in English and Josafina and Marco Tuilio in Spanish and all three of them out of key but this didn’t matter. What mattered was that my dad loved these people he had only met days before and wasn’t ashamed to show it. Countless times in my life my dad has shown his love through his hands and the way he lives. The sweetest of those moments is when he has patiently and lovingly laid those callused hands on our heads and given us a Father’s blessing.

     The truth of the matter is I do know that my dad is the Salt of the Earth and you would think I would want to keep him all to myself but the fact of the matter is…I want to share him with the world so that everyone can know what love is. I love you dad!