My Dad was essentially a shy man.  He was not much of a mixer in the sense that he did not go out of his way to be around others. Ironically, he fathered a crowd.  He lived a life of contradiction, yet he yearned for solitude and serenity and created a family environment brimming over unpredictability and clamor.

A few examples come to mind:

One school morning, Dad came downstairs wearing his bathrobe and poured himself a cup of coffee.  He lit up a Camel cigarette and began reading the Portland newspaper.   He calmly asked Bob to pass him the sugar for his coffee.  Bob zipped the sugar bowl across the table.  It struck Dad's coffee cup and the whole hot cup of coffee landed on his lap.  I do not recall him becoming angry, but he appeared mystified and confused.  He may have thought, "Why is the world conspiring against my peace and serenity?"

Another attitude my Dad had about his ability to take a day off when he felt like it occured every time there was a Nor' easter snow storm. He absolutely loved watching the storm come through and he thought it was hilarious to watch all the "poor bastards" out there trying to get to work in the snowstorm. He would laugh and he just thought that was the funniest thing ever. Just could not understand why anyone would plow through a storm just to get to work.

My Dad walked down to the dock at the lakehouse in his bathing suit one day with the intention of enjoying a quiet morning siesta, in the sun. His quest for tranquility was not meant to be. One of his best friends, spotted him and drove his boat slowly by the dock.  He blasted Dad with a bucket of cold water, the roared off in triumph and a fit of laughter.  I do not recall what happened next, but whatever happened, would have been anticlimax to the soaking.  To my knowledge, Dad never sought serenity on the dock again.

My Dad loved firecrackers. He used to throw a whole bunch of them in the fireplace just to scare us. One time he lit them on his lap and they went off. I don't recall a scream, only that he took an extra deep sip of his beer. That' didn't stop him from playing with matches though...

One of my Dad's favorite pastimes was amateur carpentry.  His carpentry skills were above average and I believe that if he wasn't a doctor he could have been an architect. He was very good! He was not a slave to precision with angles and measurements.  But he could turn out decent work.  On this particular occasion, he was at the bench working on something.  My mother was present along with the dog.  It must have been a young dog because it kept yelping and jumping on Dad and disturbing his serenity.  In order to discourage the dog's behavior, Dad placed a blade of the chisel he was using in his palm with the intention of whacking the dog in the behind with the handle.  The dog may have anticipated this manuever, but the end result was Dad ended up with a nasty gash.  He did not show anyone his gash nor did he talk about it. He just put a bandaid on it. That is just the way he was.

One of the favorite things my Dad used to like to do was to make donuts. He loved to cook in front of a crowd. He only knew how to make this one thing but it was so good that we begged him to make more! It was just fried dough with powderred sugar but for some reason, the love and songs we sang while he made the donuts stick in my mind. He was a joy to have around.

 He was quite a character and he did keep up laughing at his unusual outlook on life. I think he found his serenity ...