Category Archives: Father

Beautiful Smashing Chestnuts…

04 Friday Sep 2026

Posted by in Art, Poetry, Father, watercolor, Autumn

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

© Joan Currie – My watercolor of my chestnuts.


Smashing Chestnuts by Joan Currie

My father loved teaching
us children tricks—
how to

walk the dog with a yo-yo,
split an apple in half
with our bare hands,
carve an Ivory soap bar
into a fish for the bath.

Best of all,
how to make
horse chestnut conkers
ready for battle.

In the fall,
we walked through the park
to a grove of chestnut trees

and gathered up their mast–
shiny burnt-sienna nuggets
spilled from
green, spiked husks.

We filled our pockets
with the biggest ones.

At his workbench,
Father drilled a hole in each.
We scouted around for
old shoelaces
and threaded them through.

Our driveway was our playing field.
Father taught us
the art of flicking the wrist,
the arc of attack.

We took turns
trying to smash
each other’s conkers
with strategic blows.

Yesterday, I came across
horse chestnuts in my park.

I think I’ll make
some conkers again.

Father would get
a kick out of that.

Beautiful Letting Go…

27 Thursday Aug 2026

Posted by in Father, Reflections, Relationships, Winter

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

© Joan Currie – Found skates.


Letting Go by Joan Currie

I came across
my late husband’s
hockey skates

in a box with several pucks
and his leather gloves.

I had kept them
for more than twenty years–
remnants of a sport he loved.

I asked my daughters
if they remembered
skating with him.

“No, but we must have.”

We searched the photo albums
for evidence.
Nothing.

Worse, I had no memory
of skating with him either.

Surely, I must have.

I remember watching him
at hockey practice
at university,

but I wanted a memory
of the two of us
skating hand in hand
on a crisp winter night.

There wasn’t one.

So we let the box go–

the skates,
the pucks,
the leather gloves–

and kept
the memories of him
that were ours.

Beautiful Eau Sauvage…

08 Wednesday Jul 2026

Posted by in Aging, beautiful, Father, Poetry, Reflections

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

© Joan Currie – My father’s aftershave


Eau Sauvage by Joan Currie

On a trip to Paris,
after a college year abroad,
I bought my father
a bottle of
Eau Sauvage aftershave.

I don’t know why.
Perhaps I was seduced by the
elegant Christian Dior
fragrance counter.
Or was it a friend’s urging?

He wasn’t a man
who wore cologne.

But after receiving that gift,
he wore its fresh lemon scent
for the rest of his life.

Even in hospice,
after my brother handed me
my father’s shaving kit,
a daily ritual
became a final sacrament.

I drew the razor
across his three-day stubble.

He always said
I had healing hands.

I ran tepid water
into a stainless steel bowl,
rinsed his face clean,
and dried it gently
with his well-worn terry-cloth towel.

The final act
was pouring a few drops
of Eau Sauvage
into my palms

and patting his smooth cheeks
just as he had done
a thousand times before.

I felt he knew
I was there,

in communion with him

one last time.

Amen.

Beautiful View From the Deck…

02 Tuesday Jun 2026

Posted by in Aging, Art, beautiful, Father, Grief, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

© Joan Currie – Cargo ship on the Burrard Inlet, Vancouver. My father and I loved to watch these ships together.


View From the Deck by Joan Currie

I grieved for my father
most

when he and my mother
left their beloved home
for a care facility.

It came gradually.

The accumulation
of small difficulties,
increasing in severity
day after day.

The tremor in his hand
that spilled food down
the front of his shirt.

The scrapes on his face
from crashing into a wall
when he could no longer
stop his forward gait.

A fractured collarbone
the surgeon refused to pin.

Nightmares
that haunted his sleep.

Bottles and bottles
of expired medication
in the medicine chest.

An unbalanced checkbook
and papers strewn across his desk.

He was such a gentle man–
rarely complaining.

Perhaps it was a mercy,
not fully knowing
how far the disease
had progressed.

I wanted him to remain at home,
surrounded by the things he loved:

the view from the deck,
giant container ships
forging their way inland,

vivid sunsets,

blue hydrangeas,

art books opened
in his favorite wingback chair
beside the fire.

In the end,
he left the house quietly.

Who knows
how much he understood–

of his illness,

or where he stood
in the world.

Beautiful Quilt With Dad’s Shirt Fabric…

16 Wednesday Oct 2024

Posted by in beautiful, Design, Father, Photography, Poetry, Sewing, Upcycling

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

© Joan Currie – Our quilt in progress…

Grandad’s Quilt for You by Joan Currie

With needles keen, we stitch a quilt,
From Grandad’s shirts, worn soft with years,
The very ones you helped me choose,
Each shade of blue he held so dear.

The solid hues, the stripes, the checks,
Each fabric as familiar as he,
For birthday, Christmas, wrapped with care,
You’d place the gift upon his knee.

And oh, how he would smile so bright,
Holding aloft his cherished blue,
For all to see the color’s light,
That whispered of his love for you.

We measured then, with careful hand,
And cut the cloth in even squares,
Each stitch was placed with loving thread,
To weave together tender cares.

The backing soft, the lining pure,
Hand-quilted, tufted with delight.
This quilt now seems to you so sure,
A cloak that wraps you in the night.

You say it feels like his embrace,
His arms around you as you sleep,
And in the warmth, you find his grace,
In every seam his love runs deep.

My youngest daughter and I made the quilt shown above from my late Dad’s shirts. It was a wonderful project to do together and I am so glad that she suggested it! I know my Dad continues to be with her (and all of us) in spirit!

Beautiful New Year’s Resolutions, sort of…

28 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by in Father, New Year's Resolutions, Photography, Reflections, Relationships, Winter

≈ Comments Off on Beautiful New Year’s Resolutions, sort of…

Tags

, , ,

Looking forward to 2022…

Success consists of going from failure to failure without a loss of enthusiasm. – Winston Churchill

My father loved sports and games. He was a fierce competitor and exuberant victor. I revered him and from a very young age wanted to get in on the action. I knew that I would never beat him at the chosen sport or game, but it was thrilling just to be in his realm while I played opposite him. He didn’t believe in throwing a game or giving handicaps – if I were to win, it would have to be a completely unambiguous victory.

As the years went on, I accepted defeat – most of the time it was utter defeat, complete annihilation, actually. But in my teens I figured out a way to play against him that became enjoyable. Rather than concentrate on the final outcome, always defeat for me, I played by point spreads. To my surprise, I actually got better at the sports and games and wanted to play more often. I became a warrior and found enjoyment in the challenge! I never did beat him at any sport or game but I always had a good time.

After reviewing my 2021 New Year’s Resolutions, I realized that I had completed only three of the thirty listed. Hardly a victory. But I had a good time trying and I am actually further ahead than this time last year. I now have another list for 2022 – do I really think that I will complete it? No. But I will enjoy the challenge!

Photo by David Dodds