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My Dad, my hero and his boat
My dad, who lives 4 hours away from me, is on a whatsapp chat with my sisters and I almost daily. At almost 70, retired, alert and thankfully still healthy, he is a willing life-long learner and though thoroughly relaxed in retirement, he doesn’t let his mind stay lax. Though I do not agree with his choice of broadsheet, he reads it from cover to cover daily after his usual fishing session which lasts from 6am-1pm. With his smartphone, dial-up desk top and his satellite TV, he is in contact with the exponentially changing outside world on a daily basis.
From him, I learned about share investments, the wonderful world of the animal planet and the ethics of hard work and success!
His 69th birthday is coming up and I am getting him an Ipad with wifi/3G so he can get into the world wide web with a bigger screen. Mum grumbles that he’s addicted to wifi! When we travel together and get to a hotel, he, like many of the iphone generation knows how to ask for a wifi password!
He’s cool, my dad.
Dad and I when I was two.
This father’s day I am writing about my dad and his boat. You see, for as long as I remember, which is probably since moving into our family house by the beach on the mainland coast of Penang, in 1979, he’s always gone on his boat, either before school or after where he taught Science in an all-girls’ school, to fish, trawl or prawn for half a day. We always joked that Dad was a full-time fisherman and part-time Scientist. He hung around with a lot of the mostly simple fisherman-folk and has always been their consultant, scribe and go-to-guy to settle their banking and legal matters. He does it all pro-bono of course for he’s my dad, the good guy. No agenda, no hidden motive. At the same time, he is also the mobile animal shelter in the neighbourhood- having rescued many a stray dogs in his area and a fierce advocate of animal rights, often writing to the Editor’s page about illegal export of rare species such as pangolins and such. He has a menagerie of tortoises and is really a cross between McGyver and Steve Irwin. For him, fishing and life around his fisherman’s hut have always been a fundamental part of his life!
He’s ever so prudent and savvy-financially and though he is by no means rich, he is very comfortable and has a really good post-retirement life. His mantra in life is to live moderately and be humble and not forgetting to find humour in little things.
My dad is the kind of dad who lived in his gym shoes for work, and his squarish uncle fit flops for the rest of the time. Recently, he acquired a pair of sturdy Timberland sandals for long walks. He loves ochre, brown, khaki and olive green( colours which my Mum deems dirty) which don’t really complement his skin tone much to the chagrin of his sartorially-particular 3 daughters and wife who always try to dress him in crisp white, navy or baby blue shirts! He only ever wore dress shoes to our weddings and our graduations ceremonies.
When dad texted me about having sold his boat, I couldn’t get the image of him and his boat out of my head. His boat is not a 20 feet yacht but a humble sampan that many Malaysian fishermen use to go out to fish. Selling his boat is closure for him, closure from about 30 years of life at sea with his fishing partner- it’s been a daily ritual- dad goes out in his long-sleeved cotton fishing shirt, with a pocket often of a different colour or fabric which he would have sewed on for himself for he hates pocketless shirts, and his ubiquitous Chinese straw hat, at the crack of dawn after a breakfast of coffee and bread and jam. His boat is his domain. From his fishing, he always brought home the freshest seafood which made us all quite snobby seafood epicureans. None of us girls have EVER been on HIS BOAT. He fishes, prawns or trawls and gets back at mid -day and goes to afternoon session school. After his retirement nearly 15 years ago, he’s been able to go out for longer. In Dec 2004, he luckily missed the great tsunami as he was with us celebrating Christmas. His fisherman mates had some wild stories to share, of losing their pants instead of lives, of being miraculously saved though they lost their boats and everything but themselves. He never ventured too far out from the periphery of Penang’s coast and he always knew how to navigate a storm, often at Mum’s expense, worrying on her bed.
But I sensed his deep loss when he sent me his simple text.
I finally sold my boat.
Because my dad and his boat are ONE, really. He had to sell it as his fishing partner for many years, died suddenly of a heart attack. And mum wants him retired from fishing, forever. Now, he’s going out for more morning walks with Mum and they take long drives through the country lanes in the north through rubber plantations and rice paddies and he takes loads of photos of nature and sunsets for us. And he’s always sending us short, sweet texts to ask after the grandchildren. He visits us in KL and Singapore a few times a year and we visit them at least thrice a year. Plus we always have an annual family holiday together.
So, on Father’s Day, my dad- my simple hero, man of a few words, my tee-totaller, close to a monk/saint, kind and loving dad, a witty, funny joker when he wants to be, the master controller of the Discovery Channel, who taught us all to discover ourselves by giving us enough rope, and who helped us navigate through this mad, tough, but lovely world that we live in, I know you miss your boat dearly, but now you can spend even more time driving Mum crazy with your channel flipping, bond more over your coffee sharing or have swim races with your grandchildren knowing you have your own room in every one of your daughter’s homes OR you, who knows, might even start Bible study or take up golf! Or find amusement from Youtube!
Dad on holiday with us.
But don’t ever lose your will, tenacity, resilience, just like the old man, in Hemingway’s classic- for with or without your boat, you’re still our greatest hero.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you loads. X
-r
Dad and I when I was two.
This father’s day I am writing about my dad and his boat. You see, for as long as I remember, which is probably since moving into our family house by the beach on the mainland coast of Penang, in 1979, he’s always gone on his boat, either before school or after where he taught Science in an all-girls’ school, to fish, trawl or prawn for half a day. We always joked that Dad was a full-time fisherman and part-time Scientist. He hung around with a lot of the mostly simple fisherman-folk and has always been their consultant, scribe and go-to-guy to settle their banking and legal matters. He does it all pro-bono of course for he’s my dad, the good guy. No agenda, no hidden motive. At the same time, he is also the mobile animal shelter in the neighbourhood- having rescued many a stray dogs in his area and a fierce advocate of animal rights, often writing to the Editor’s page about illegal export of rare species such as pangolins and such. He has a menagerie of tortoises and is really a cross between McGyver and Steve Irwin. For him, fishing and life around his fisherman’s hut have always been a fundamental part of his life!
He’s ever so prudent and savvy-financially and though he is by no means rich, he is very comfortable and has a really good post-retirement life. His mantra in life is to live moderately and be humble and not forgetting to find humour in little things.
My dad is the kind of dad who lived in his gym shoes for work, and his squarish uncle fit flops for the rest of the time. Recently, he acquired a pair of sturdy Timberland sandals for long walks. He loves ochre, brown, khaki and olive green( colours which my Mum deems dirty) which don’t really complement his skin tone much to the chagrin of his sartorially-particular 3 daughters and wife who always try to dress him in crisp white, navy or baby blue shirts! He only ever wore dress shoes to our weddings and our graduations ceremonies.
When dad texted me about having sold his boat, I couldn’t get the image of him and his boat out of my head. His boat is not a 20 feet yacht but a humble sampan that many Malaysian fishermen use to go out to fish. Selling his boat is closure for him, closure from about 30 years of life at sea with his fishing partner- it’s been a daily ritual- dad goes out in his long-sleeved cotton fishing shirt, with a pocket often of a different colour or fabric which he would have sewed on for himself for he hates pocketless shirts, and his ubiquitous Chinese straw hat, at the crack of dawn after a breakfast of coffee and bread and jam. His boat is his domain. From his fishing, he always brought home the freshest seafood which made us all quite snobby seafood epicureans. None of us girls have EVER been on HIS BOAT. He fishes, prawns or trawls and gets back at mid -day and goes to afternoon session school. After his retirement nearly 15 years ago, he’s been able to go out for longer. In Dec 2004, he luckily missed the great tsunami as he was with us celebrating Christmas. His fisherman mates had some wild stories to share, of losing their pants instead of lives, of being miraculously saved though they lost their boats and everything but themselves. He never ventured too far out from the periphery of Penang’s coast and he always knew how to navigate a storm, often at Mum’s expense, worrying on her bed.
But I sensed his deep loss when he sent me his simple text.
I finally sold my boat.
Because my dad and his boat are ONE, really. He had to sell it as his fishing partner for many years, died suddenly of a heart attack. And mum wants him retired from fishing, forever. Now, he’s going out for more morning walks with Mum and they take long drives through the country lanes in the north through rubber plantations and rice paddies and he takes loads of photos of nature and sunsets for us. And he’s always sending us short, sweet texts to ask after the grandchildren. He visits us in KL and Singapore a few times a year and we visit them at least thrice a year. Plus we always have an annual family holiday together.
So, on Father’s Day, my dad- my simple hero, man of a few words, my tee-totaller, close to a monk/saint, kind and loving dad, a witty, funny joker when he wants to be, the master controller of the Discovery Channel, who taught us all to discover ourselves by giving us enough rope, and who helped us navigate through this mad, tough, but lovely world that we live in, I know you miss your boat dearly, but now you can spend even more time driving Mum crazy with your channel flipping, bond more over your coffee sharing or have swim races with your grandchildren knowing you have your own room in every one of your daughter’s homes OR you, who knows, might even start Bible study or take up golf! Or find amusement from Youtube!
Dad on holiday with us.
