I was about 12 years old when my dad decided to sit me down and bring to light what would define my sense of humor for the next several years — “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
He did not remember to read the movie rating beforehand. There were a lot of, “Don’t say that. Don’t say that either,” throughout the viewing process. His timing was fairly good. Although for the longest time, I thought pansy was a cuss word rather than the word that comes after “you yellow,” during the black knight scene.
It’s these little moments that make Father’s Day and Mother’s Day, holidays to truly celebrate. (Because May was super busy and I didn’t get a chance to write a column, I will be grouping Mother’s Day in here too. Ignore that it’s June.)
Many of us have memories from our childhood that we cherish because of the ways our parents, or those who had a hand in raising us, shaped it. Plenty of these moments likely weren’t perfect, but we remember with joy regardless.
My mom would read to me every night. She introduced me to some of my favorite books like Anne of Green Gables. She would sing to me “I could have danced all night” from My Fair Lady. She would do my hair for every dance recital, and I would scream like I had been stabbed every time she tried to brush my hair — a classic mother-daughter bonding experience.
But of course, my parents also taught me life lessons. Many of these lessons weren’t spoken but done through example, as many of the best lessons tend to go.
My dad taught me that you can always be a learner, and it doesn't have to be about mastery, it can just be about exploration. Throughout my childhood, my dad has gone through many hobbies. My earliest memory was likely when he was into learning different knots. He would be on the living room couch with a little piece of rope and using part of the coffee table to practice different tying techniques.
But he is also well known for getting into different musical instruments and generally not getting too much farther than knowing the chords. There’s been some dabbling with the harmonica, the chanter (a precursor to the bagpipes), guitar and the banjo. The banjo has been the longer lasting one so far, and sometimes when he plays it sounds like a song.
Although there are some hobbies he has stayed true to, he still continues to learn new things about it. Building a teardrop trailer has been a hobby for years. It’s one of the world’s longest tinkering projects. It started at least while I was in high school. There’s been a lot of YouTube tutorials, some problem-solving sessions and a few blueprints. One day it will be completed but until then it’s a workshop of discoveries.
Then of course, my mom taught me to forge strong bonds and not let friendships slip by you. I still talk to my best friend from school nearly every day, and I know my third cousins by their names. This is not normal.
But it’s because my mom knows the value of relationships and the importance of people in our lives. She stays connected with old friends. She regularly takes vacation time to see distant family members, and she believes just because you haven’t talked to someone in a while doesn’t mean you can’t start again.
You aren’t going to stay connected to everyone, especially not all the time. There will be some people you leave behind for healthy reasons. Other times it's just because we all got too busy. My mom makes sure I at least consider making the time.
While I am home for the holidays, she often asks me if I am going to get lunch with a friend I haven’t seen in years. And while I am annoyed at the time, I know she is right and it often leads to a reconnection.
Maybe Anne of Green Gables had her point all along, “Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It’s splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.”
Which is likely far more endearing than, “Come back here and take what’s coming to you. I’ll bite your legs off,” Monty Python.
Abigail Murphy is the Dadeville beat reporter for Tallapoosa Publishers Inc. She can be reached at abigail.murphy@alexcityoutlook.com.
