An ode to the man in the speedo

March 22nd, 2009

This is an unusual post.

Although it is Mother’s Day here in the UK today, this post is about my father. Tomorrow my dad will be having an absolutely horrible sounding operation on his knee - a knee replacement of sorts. It will involve him getting a metal plate inserted where his dodgy knee currently resides. This - according to my children - will turn him into bionic man and/or a Power Ranger. No pressure then Pops!

My father spent years torturing his knees playing hockey and hiking out on lasers, the latter always in a teeny tiny speedo (the former might well have meant an inability to procreate). It’s not too surprising it’s time for a new steel reinforced knee cap. However, I’m terrified for him. I don’t like the thought of anyone going into surgery. And I can’t imagine him laid up in bed for weeks on end waiting for the knee to heal. And if something - God forbid - went wrong, I would be beyond devastated. The foundation of my world would crumble.

You see my dad is my rock, my motivator. He is the person who encouraged me to sail. He’s the person who said: Get educated first, then travel. He’s the sound voice of reason coupled with undying support. He’s the life and soul of the party. He’s the never-ending font of historical knowledge. He is philosophical. He’s a dreamer.

Most little girls adore their fathers I guess, but my relationship with my dad is different. I’m acutely aware of his flaws. Mainly because they’re mine too. We are so incredibly alike - both in looks, temperament and inability to do DIY.

When I told him about this sailing adventure, I expected his support. I was quite surprised when it wasn’t an instantaneous ‘YES GO FOR IT!!!’ It was a measured response that quickly got to the heart of the problems I’d face. All of which were valid.

But since doling out his fatherly advice, he’s been there supporting me in a bunch of different ways. From spreading the word across the Redhouse Yacht Club, to the local Port Elizabeth website, to South African yachting magazines, to simply being the voice of reason when I’m having a wobble.

He has an infectious love of life and a silly old dicky knee isn’t going to stop him doing what he’s always done: getting out on the water in a south easterly gale and proving that old sea dogs don’t die, they just smell that way.

Wishing you all the best for tomorrow dad, with more love that you could know.

Lissa, the boys and Chris.

Tags: dad, knee operation, sailing

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