Open Space

Bacon, pancakes, the smell of freshly-mowed grass, Old Spice cologne. Just a few of the things that remind me of Dad. He’s been gone a year and a half now. Some days it feels like forever since I’ve talked to him, and other days it feels like just yesterday when I was writing his obituary.

Mom died in 2006, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. With Dad, it’s somehow different. I feel like when he died, he took a part of me with him. Maybe it’s because I’m his daughter. Maybe it’s because he was in my life for 14 years longer. Maybe I’ve had longer to process Mom’s grief while Dad’s is still raw.

Whatever the case, dads are different and special. I know mine sure was. From the moment I opened my eyes, he’s been there for me. In the early years, he provided a roof over my head, put food on the table, and made sure I was safe and secure.

As I began to grow, he became a coach and teacher watching anxiously as my little legs pedaled away from him or dived into the ocean. He was always there with good advice, “Slow down for the turns” or to swoop me up after the wave dragged me under.

He and Mom set the rules, but he was the enforcer. Boy, was he strict. My husband jokes that I’m very black and white in how I think sometimes, and I credit Dad for that. There wasn’t any gray area when it came to dealing with Dad’s laws. Curfew was specific and understood. “Ten o’clock is ten o’clock. If I wanted you home by 10:07, that’s what I would have said.”

There were no veiled threats except for the occasional spanking that never occurred. He didn’t have to spank me. The thought of it looming was enough for me to nip any behavior or action in the bud before it ever happened. Punishment was usually in the form of a good tongue lashing, but it was quick and precise. Dad’s point was succinct. Everyone knew where they stood and we moved on after.

The only rule real you needed to know was this: Dad was in charge. His roof, his rules.

God only knows how he survived my teenage years. That’s probably why he set another rule. “When you’re 18, my job is done” We didn’t have to leave the house, but trust me. There were so many rules, personally speaking, I couldn’t wait to get out. I was actually 19 when I flew the nest. I knew I had to be ready for the world because of Dad’s other rule. “There isn’t a swinging door. Once you leave, you can’t keep coming back.”

He and Mom only had to bend that rule for me twice. Once for a brief stint when I was 23 and in between roommates/apartments, and the next time when I was waiting to move into my new condo at 30. Both times, the rules remained the same except for the curfew which he had lightened up on.

In reality, he talked a big game, but his hard exterior was a cover for the soft, caring person he was. Up until the day he died, he was a dad through and through. Whatever I needed, whenever I needed it, he was there. Be it for gas money, how to fix a leaky toilet, or closest dump sites, he was my go-to guy. Even after I got married, his job may have gotten easier, but he never let go of the reins fully.

He was tough, but never mean. He was intimidating, but never cruel. He was strict, but never harsh. He was respectful always, and respected immensely.

He was also incredibly generous, kind, and mannered. A Southern gentleman to the core. I rarely ever heard Dad say a curse word or speak ill of anyone. It wasn’t his nature. He rarely got riled up or threw a fit if things didn’t go his way which I’m sure was often the case. “No use getting upset about it,” as he’d often say.

I never heard Dad raise his voice to anyone. Not to Mom or any of us kids, even when he was mad. He didn’t have to. The tone of his voice said everything you needed to know. I still admire him for that.

We didn’t have much growing up, but Dad made sure we had everything we needed: Respect, kindness, love, trust, loyalty, character, integrity, and an unsurpassed work ethic. So, I guess in retrospect, we had more than most.

Not everyone is as blessed as me. Many of my friends lost their dad at an early age—college even earlier. Quite a few didn’t grow up with their dad because of divorce or other circumstances. My heart breaks for them as I can’t imagine growing up in a world that didn’t include my Dad. It’s hard enough that I’m faced with it at my age.

To all the dads out there, Happy Father’s Day. If you’re like mine, you wear a lot of hats—coach, teacher, mentor, enforcer, chief cook, bottle washer, mechanic, etc. I hope you get to hang them all up for a day and relax. I hope mine is enjoying a big pancake breakfast and watching some baseball.

About the Author: Lori is a local writer, painter and pet lover who loves to share her experiences and expertise with our readers. She has been penning a column for the OTC for almost 25 years. Please follow Lori online on Medium for more missives like this.

time the business began to dry up and it closed in 1978. The building underwent a $30 million renovation and reopened with 90 guest rooms in 2008. It is now operating under the Wyndham Luxury Hotel umbrella. We have stayed at the George Washington and it is very nice indeed.

Today the Mall boasts over 35 restaurants in the downtown area as well as 75 stores and salons. Like Alexandria, the Loudoun Mall also has its own Farmers Market. Our time was limited since we had to make this an afternoon trip instead of an overnight stay, but the next time we are taking time to explore the highlights the town of Winchester has to offer and maybe even check out the market.

The Loudoun Street Walking Mall in Winchester is a great day trip destination and has enough to occupy you if you choose to spend the night. In addition to the Mall there are a number of historical buildings, museums (Patsy Cline’s house is a museum here) and sights in the immediate area that we will save for another Road Trip column.

Reaching Winchester is a nice drive once you clear all of the traffic lights on Route 50 in Chantilly. The drive is about 80 miles so it falls under the heading of "reasonable" with today's gas prices. One drawback is always the construction Route 66 and it wasn’t bad the day we went. We arrived in about an hour and a half! Union Jack Pub & Restaurant.

Susan at El Centro saves the day!

GO FISH | FROM PAGE 41 XPEL Tec Gloves repel water, are stain resistant, control odors, and have 50+ UV protection. Best of all, the easy on gloves also come off easily! gillmarine. com

One outdoor sports shoe fits like a glove.

Chaco Z/1 Classics create customized fits with Z-shaped straps crossing to wrap feet with 360-degree adjustment. Non-marking Luvseat footbed supports with all day comfort with traction on wet or dry surfaces. Podiatrist approved! Outdoors or indoors, on road or trail, socks or no socks, Chaco’s Z/1 is durable, constructed of only 8 component parts, and fully repairable for longterm value. For over 30 years, Chaco’s iconic styling has never gone out of style. Help Dad take a load off his feet. Chacos.com

When dad camps out, some gear remains home. From setting up camp to pulling stakes, Gerber’s Stake Out camp 4.5 inch multi-tool makes happy campers. 11 tools serve distinct purposes for setting up camp, maintaining body and gear, cooking, and packing up. A carabiner clips to Dad’s belt, leaving more room for fishing gear. Gerber’s legendary blade seals the deal. Backed by 75 years of being carried by soldiers, hunters, and tradesmen, show Dad your gift is as sharp as him. gerbergear.com

Dads with bass boats know about the advantages of Power Pole Shallow Water anchors. Some are holding off on getting them because they might not fit into the garage. Not anymore! Hydrilla Gear ‘s Gen 2 tilt backet fits most boats and allows Power Poles to tilt forward, to fit under the garage door. The tilt brackets are high quality, powder coated, and fit perfectly. Dad can upgrade to 10 foot Power Poles too! Easy to install and deploy. hydrillagear.com

Another great gift idea is a gift certificate for a bass fishing trip on the Potomac River. No phones, emails, texts or meetings, dad can bring his buddy or favorite offspring. But remember, if you give it, dad will use it, wear it, or eat it…make a good choice so he won’t think of you when he’s in line returning it!

About the Author: Capt. Steve Chaconas is Potomac bass fishing guide. Potomac River reports: nationalbass.com. Book trips/purchase gift certificates: info@ NationalBass.com.

LET’S GET CRAFTY | FROM PAGE 36

Jimmy Buffet visits here often. I ask if they have met. It ends up that they are friends. Eddie is a very cool guy. Since I want to explore rhums, I ask Eddie if he is a rhum drinker. He says not really, then takes me to the bar and gives me a great twenty-minute rhum recommendation. Eddie likes rhums from Martinique. He states that they are the best and that they drink like cognac. We taste a St. Clement Rhum Agricole XO, reviewed later. The St. Clement rhum we are tasting is an Agricole Rhum

Martinique has its own distilling rules for Agricole, similar to the way the U.S. has bourbon laws and Germany has beer purity laws. This is the French West Indies signature rhum. Agricole rhum is made from sugar cane juice instead of using the more common molasses or sugar for the process. Sugar cane juice is easier to extract and gives you more rhum. An XO label means that the rhum is at least six years old and aged “in a combination of virgin and re-charred oak barrels.”

I have one cube of ice in my rhum. Eddie drinks his neat. He tells me that they use St. Clement Rhums to make Ti’ Punch. “Really? That’s great!” I reply. “And just what is Ti’ Punch?“ Eddie chuckles and explains.

Ti’ Punch is a French West Indies tradition. The name means “small punch.” It is traditionally made with a shot of rhum, a small amount of lime juice and zest, and sugar. Agricole rhum is traditionally used in Ti’ Punch. Other fruit juices can be added on top of the lime, and cane sugar is commonly used. It’s like a daiquiri, but much smaller. They considered it an aperitif. I try a couple during my visit. The drink is tasty but beware. Ti’ Punch is strong. You’re basically doing a shot of rhum with lime and sugar.

I spent a week in St. Barths with my family. For me, it was a week of sipping fantastic rhums and smoking Cuban cigars. I know, life is rough. There are no words that can justly describe the beauty of this island. I strongly recommend that you visit this paradise. It is an extraordinary experience.

About the Author: Timothy Long is an educator, writer, consultant, and experienced restaurant operator. Email: tlong@belmarinnovations.com. Instagram and Twitter: @wvutimmy. Blog: What is that fly doing in my soup? http://whatflyinmysoup.com