What a day. Thought it'd be your basic boring Thursday - but those are the days that throw us for a loop aren't they?
I started by being a guest on an OPB radio show called "Think Outloud". They were doing an hour on food safety and asked me to be a guest to talk about my experiences with Beck and his salmonella. It was an honor to be asked and I think it went pretty good. You can listen here if you are so inclined.... OPB Think Outloud I am on the last 15 minutes or so. Definitely don't have a future in radio, but very cool to continue doing my advocacy for food safety!
Then I went to work. While at work I remembered a comment from my husband this morning. He said something about googling your own name. Have you done this? Fascinating. I googled my own name - wow. All kinds of things on there - luckily all (or at least most of them) are current and relevant to my life which I felt good about. Not that I've done anything I should be worried about...but you just never know what kind of crazies are out there!
As I scrolled down the page I began to see references to my dad's name. My dad died when I was 23 in 1995. He was 50. He was a prolific writer and photographer and involved in some amazing projects throughout his life, so it didn't really surprise me to see his name online. But there were several blogs within the past 3 years that mentioned his name. That threw me off a little.
I found one that quoted a book he wrote in 1979 - it was a prayer of thanks. A missionary in Cambodia drew peace and solace from the prayer and printed it on his blog for Thanksgiving. That one was lovely, I smiled to know he was still touching people.
Another man, a minister, quoted a story I have never read and here's where my day got weird. He (my dad) tells a story of spending Easter in prison with 10,000 other political prisoners. He talks about how many of them wanted to take communion on that day but had no wine or bread. My father led them in a communion (he was a minister back then) without the wine or bread but in spirit. The blog is called Heart on the Left.
I know that my dad travelled a lot when I was a child. I lived with my mom so I didn't always know where my dad went, what he was doing. I remember one long trip he took to Bangladesh and Calcutta where he worked with Mother Teresa. But I am drawing a total blank at him ever having been a political prisoner of any sort. Does the story referenced refer more to him visiting prisoners? As I read the quote, it doesn't seem like it. He tells it as if he was a prisoner himself.
I am left to feel a little sad...a little confused. I have always felt that my dad died too early, before he as ready - certainly before I was ready. I have always had so many unanswered questions - and now I have even more. There is no one left to ask about it that I know of.
For Christmas this year, I would like one more day with daddy. Just one. Santa, are you listening?