Bien Padre

    

     Today is 'Father's Day'.  For years I scoffed at the idea of a holiday just for dads, writing it off as another ploy by retailers to milk the

consumer cow.  But the origins of this day are sweet.

The first annual Father's day was purposed by a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd from Spokane, Washington in 1909. There was already a 'Mother's Day' on the books, but Ms Dodd's own mother

Sonora Louise Smart Dodd

had passed away when she was small leaving her widower father alone to raise six children, which he did. Sonora Dodd's admiration of her father's sacrifice was the catalyst for what we celebrate today.

     Though there is no doubt that retailers were behind the idea from the start, and as usual turned something sweet into a way to profit, it is still a nice story, don't you think?  Here is another one:

*****

     The other day I hiked down the mountain into town as I have several times since I've been here.  At the base of the mountain the trail turns into a gravel road then intersects with one of the back streets of Boquete.  On two previous occasions I had encountered a Panamanian man walking towards me in the opposite direction (of course he was walking in the opposite direction if he was coming towards me!  Duh.)
     He walked slowly towards me, looking thoughtful with his hands behind his back. At first glance I thought he was smiling at me because he was looking right at me and his teeth were showing.  So, being polite I returned the smile and said,

     "Buenos Dias".  To which he naturally replied "Huh?"

     By then he was close enough for me to see that his teeth (well, his lower teeth) were indeed showing but not voluntarily.  His lower jaw was askew as if somebody had slugged him in the mouth and it stuck that way. His eyes

were not exactly smiling either, though he was looking at me. You know that look a shark has?  That whole; there, but not there thing.
     I, being the genius of the two, figured out quickly that this man was...special.

     The short conversation, which was made up of my repeating "Buenos Dias" and him repeating "Huh?", ended in a draw that day as I just kept walking, glancing back now and then to make sure he had done the same. 

     I ran into him a second time while I was taking pictures of some of the beautiful flowers along that stretch of road. I think this little stretch of road is his 'stomping grounds' and he patrols his turf diligently.  When he saw my camera he acted a bit agitated or curious, it was hard to tell.  He had the same look as before only more insistent, if that is at all possible. 

     This time along with the 'Buenoses' and the 'huhs?' he threw in some Spanish words and raised his chin rather proudly, which naturally I took as meaning "Would you like to take my picture?" After all, he was smiling...kind of.

 

  However, when I raised the camera and asked if he would like me to take a photo of him, he said "No! No!", turned and quickly shuffled off frowning...I think he was frowning.

     I didn't see him again for a couple of journeys, until a few days ago.  This time he must have been feeling comfortable enough with me to make direct contact, for he walked right up to me and, using international sign language, began asking for money.  This included him pointing at the bulging pocket of my shorts (yes, where my wallet was),

then reaching into his own pocket and saying something in Spanish that ended with the word 'Panama!'

     He repeated this combination several times, while I began to stammer and stutter, throwing out various Spanish words and phrases.  All the while I was inching backwards hoping he'd get the hint.  But he didn't.  Of course I was smiling nervously and starting to sweat (more than usual) which just seemed to encourage him somehow.  

     Finally, and I have no idea why, I blurted out,

     "Bien Padre!" which is a brand of tortilla

chips. 

     Luckily "Bien Padre" doesn't mean "get away from me you poor, crazy bastard!", instead it means "Good Father." 

     It was as if somewhere behind those dark, dead eyes I tiny light went on and his rant ended.  So, of course I said it again, and this time he looked at me as if I had just said his name.

     "Are you a Padre?", I asked.
     To which he nodded his head and said softly,
    "Si, si." 

     His eyes softened and his jaw relaxed just a bit.

     "You," I said pointing to him, "Bien Padre."

Again he nodded, and though it was hard to tell, I think he got a little teary eyed. Then, though I would not have thought it possible, his gaze went somewhere further off, back into some lost memory maybe.

     "Bien Padre." I said again.

     Then like a father who finally got his child asleep, I quietly turned and walked away, leaving him there alone with his thoughts

*****

     As I sit here on this Father's Day I realize that that man and I share something special, something that transcends language, a deep love for our children.

     Though my own Dad is gone now, I still celebrate Father's Day in my heart.  I do so because I am eternally grateful that I was given the opportunity to be a father, and experience the rapturous joy of being able to hold my daughters.  

     It is more than I deserve, to be sure, but I would not trade that gift for anything under heaven.