My treasured Seahorses…
When my Dad retired from the Navy in 1965, he secured a civilian position at Siemens Corporation as a sales representative for X-ray equipment and technology.
My Dad was a very kind, gracious, brilliant man – and a detail guy. If he was helping me with a school project (which he loved to do), he always guided me to the most minute details in completing it. This lesson and this help shaped my life and my learning. I guess I’ve always been a detail gal, too, because of the fun and conversations and time I had with my Dad while creating things.
My Dad enjoyed his job with Siemens, the travel he did and the people he met. He was most definitely a people person and even after all the 40 years since he died, whenever I see someone who knew him… well, there’s always the warm smiles and the accolades about what a wonderful man my Dad was. It’s a legacy that I feel blessed to be a part of.
One project my Dad worked on involved a doctor from Germany. This man took the time to write a nice note to my Dad and send a little gift of appreciation for the work my Dad did. I still remember when my Dad brought the gift home – an x-ray of 2 seahorses – an adult and a baby…
My Dad loved this gift.
I loved this gift.
I loved that my Dad loved this gift.
In its simplicity.
In its complexity.
In its beauty.
In its gentleness.
In its technology.
The Seahorse in literature and mythology represents and symbolizes creativity, imagination, good luck, fatherhood, vigilance, grace, confidence and the power of the ocean. My Dad was each of these – and he had spent so much time at sea while in the Navy. My Dad loved the sea, the ocean, the vastness of it – its power and its peace.
The Seahorse gift so reminded me of my Dad. And of me. My Dad was a grand hugger, a firm handshake kinda guy, but as gentle as the day is long. I especially loved the grown seahorse’s gentle touch of the baby’s tail.
When my Dad died, suddenly, unexpectedly in 1975, I asked my Mom if I could have the Seahorse gift.
Of course, she said.
I’ve carried those seahorses to every apartment and every home I’ve had – and believe me, they’re been more than a few.
Today, as I was cleaning my piled-with-stuff home office (due to renovations that are seeming to never end), I took my Seahorses down from the wall and I knew my Dad was here with me. I flipped it over and read and re-read the kind note from that appreciative doctor back in September of 1970.
I polished the glass and dusted the frame and thought for a brief moment about re-framing it and re-attaching the note.
Nope. Sometimes the greatest details are in aged paper, wrinkled saran wrap, faded tape and bent nails.
Today I remembered all the power and the peace of great love – like the ocean – never ending.
Thanks, Dad, for the wonderful visit.
I’ll hang this treasure right back up on the wall very close to me as I work and create and pay attention to detail… as I always have.
And I’ll be filled with your creativity, imagination, good luck, fatherhood, vigilance, grace and confidence – as always.
Like the little Seahorse!