Last night I had a particularly vivid dream about my late father.
Dad was a car mechanic for decades, then a home builder for several years before he retired. My two brothers and I worked in our father’s Texaco station in Fort Smith, Arkansas from the time we were about 12 until we each left for college. Each week during the school year was the same. Get home from school at about 3:30PM, eat a quick snack and then be at work by 4:30 or so (less work in the early days). We would work for a few hours then come home for a late supper and do homework—as we got older and had more responsibilities Dad would go home to eat supper while we watched the station. On Saturday we worked from 9:00 until closing. Our jobs varied. When we were young, the jobs were low risk and menial: cleaning toilets, sweeping, cleaning and putting away tools, and washing people’s windshields (if we could reach them—not so easy on some of the big Cadillacs). As we aged, we were given more responsibility and were taught about fixing cars. This included changing spark plugs (setting the gap and learning how to set the plug), installing brake pads, fixing flats and, when we were about 16, cleaning and reassembly of carburetors.
There were, naturally, days when I would rather have been fishing, playing with friends, and just goofing off. Luckily for me I did not have that many goof off days when I was growing up. I did have great days fishing and hunting with dad. He was gentle but firm. He knew, which we did not at the time, that what we were being taught would carry us well into the future. One thing he did do was pay us a fare wage. He also required that we save no less than half the amount we earned. For this reason, I started paying into Social Security in 1963 when I turned 16.
The dream was incredibly vivid. I was my current age but Dad was in his 50’s. He was in the process of building a new service station (today we call them gas station since there is no longer any service.) It was complex and involved lots of hi-tech computer diagnostic machines. The main service area had 6 bays with a very high ceiling. Above the main entry building was an apartment that Dad said would be his retirement home. Mom was not part of this dream. The ultimate live/work/retire place. He said he could keep an eye on his boys as they ran the business. Of course, I told him I was retired. He said “a Scherer boy never retires.” The dream ended with us inspecting his latest bass boat and planning a fishing trip.
The irony is that our last outing before he died of ALS was a fishing trip. I awoke this morning feeling a strong and emotional connection to Dad. He was with me last night. I miss him. He is hovering over me now.
