Flannel

This has always been a favorite - Dad holding Eva on her first Christmas, 2017.

I’m certainly my father’s son.

A week or so ago, I was running errands in town. The sun was low in the afternoon sky, making the Dunkin’ drive thru bask in that warm, comforting glow. Our son Blaise was about to be two weeks old, and with the intensity of the three kiddos it was nice to have a quiet break for an hour or two. 

I pulled up to the window, and although my father has consistently been a hot black coffee kind of guy, I got my cold brew and was on my way. Mind you, I was driving my old trusty, the ‘99 Lariat I bought right before Caroline and I got married, decked in the same maroon flannel my sister bought me a decade before when I was in college. I kept thinking of the similarities of that moment to childhood memories of my father.

Dad certainly drove his share of old Ford pick ups. He was definitely a Ranger guy. I remember he had at least four of them - a green ‘98 when I was in middle school, an early ‘90s two-tone blue and white before that one, and some older Rangers before that. For the most part, they all had manual shift transmissions. I wish so badly that my current truck was a manual - it’s a dying art and one that I will find my way back to in a future vehicle.

I’ve got a lot of car memories of Van Wagenens in flannel (see “Teachers” from Jan 2020). The cool weather we enjoyed this November in Florida, although not nearly the same as it is in the northeast, was mildly reminiscent of the 21 or so autumn seasons I spent at home before starting on my own. 

By our thirtieth birthdays, we both had well established families...and been driving old Fords (granted, I turn 30 next summer). Just like anyone else, I enjoy the commonalities that my father’s story and my own have. I find myself getting frustrated at the same things he did. I find myself also laughing at the same things and cracking the same sort of jokes.  I find myself wearing old flannels, like he does, and like his Dad still does.

I can’t wait for him to meet his first grandson in a few weeks. Until then - cheers Dad, and thanks for everything.

-MJVW

Grandpa Bob and Eva, same Christmastime.