I Watched, I Listened, and I Learned 

"I love you baby..." was heard often as a child as I was
growing up. Dad encouraged.. .dad taught...and dad was
always there.

At one point when I was a child, my mom, dad, and two
siblings all suffered from asthma. As the doctor bills
began to accumulate (no health insurance in those
days); Mom decided to work outside the home to
supplement the family income. When dad would arrive home
from work, it was time for Mom to leave for her job, so Dad
cared for us in the evenings. Therefore, he was present at
my first cooking attempt, a somewhat lopsided layer cake.
Instead of criticizing the less than perfect result, he
praised my "delicious" creation, giving me the incentive to
try again with an improved edition. Dad supervised my first
candy-making attempt too, and helped me follow the
instructions that came with the candy kit I ordered from
the Sears catalog. I remember him helping me to test to see
if the corn syrup concoction had reached the "hard ball
stage" when we dropped a bit of the hot liquid into a glass
of cold water. As I grew, I watched Dad prepare his
specialties; potato salad that accompanied us on every
family picnic. And a trip to a salt water beach to dig
clams meant that Dad would be cooking his famous
Manhattan-style clam chowder. Once a year, our home was
filled with the rather unpleasant odor of lutefisk cooking
for a Swedish Christmas meal. I believe I acquired my love
for cooking in those early childhood days when my
ever-patient dad supervised my first culinary adventures.

Dad had a wonderful sense of humor and knew how to make
kids laugh. Every year, four or five families drove a few
hours to the ocean beaches of Washington State . It was a
long car trip for kids and when we stopped for lunch about
an hour away from destination, cousins would often switch
cars to be together and relieve the monotony. It was
common to hear several of my cousins chorus, "We want to
ride with Uncle Vic." A ride in his car meant fun and
adventure. Once we turned off the highway and started
driving on the back roads, one of the cousins would say,
"Be silly, Uncle Vic." At that prompting, Dad would ruffle
up his hair, put his cap on backwards, allow his dentures
to protrude just a bit, and hunch over the wheel,
pretending to drive like a wild man. The kids loved it!
Off we'd go, a cloud of dust behind us, while kids giggled
and squealed. As soon as Dad returned to "normal," there
would be cries of "Do it again, Uncle Vic. Do it again."
And there would be a great feeling of anticipation, waiting
for Uncle Vic to surprise us when further down the road he
again transformed himself into this other crazy persona.
Dad didn't take himself too seriously, and this was a
lesson his children learned well.

My parents, though they had the same kinds of struggles
that other couples faced, loved one another deeply, and I
learned what commitment means from them. Though Dad was a
patient and loving man who felt things deeply, he was a
very private individual who certainly wasn't quick to wax
poetic or reveal his inward thoughts. When day while
visiting him in the hospital during his final week of
fighting cancer, Mom entered the room. Dad said to me,
"When she comes in, it's like a ray of sunshine brightening
my room." After almost 50 years of marriage, Mom was still
the love of his life and he was totally committed to her.

I learned a lot about friendship from my dad too. In his
seventies, he had a friend he had known since childhood.
They had fished together in Alaska when halibut fishing was
their occupation. Over the years they formed a strong bond
of friendship and had weathered a lot of life's storms
together. On the last day of Dad's life, as he was in and
out of consciousness, his friend, Chet, sat down next to
his hospital bed and grabbed Dad's hand. What do you say
at a time like that? Chet struggled with his emotions as
he looked into the face of his life-long friend. Finally,
he uttered words that were simple, yet so very meaningful,
"thank you for being my friend," and rushed from the room,
sobbing, overcome by emotions. Friendship was important to
Dad, and my siblings and I are better people from the
lessons we learned from Dad about friendship.

I watched, I listened and I learned from the greatest.

Thank you, Dad.

About the Author:

Jeff Gustafson and MyHATT, An international dinner club
concept where people get to know people one bite at a
time...thank you to Arlene Hawkinson for her contribution
and my entire MyHATT staff for the educational content for
world culture, the history, world traditions, the
international menus for this wondeful family activity
website...
http://www.myhatt. com