Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



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Daughter of Ishmael by Diane Stringam Tolley

Daughter of Ishmael

by Diane Stringam Tolley

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Friday, January 25, 2013

My Climbing Frame

My Daddy and me

My Dad and I had a trick.
Something that only Daddy and I could do.
It was my favourite thing in the world.
Let me tell you about it . . .
My Dad was strong.
And tall.
Certainly stronger and taller than me.
He could take my hands and hold me steady while I walked up his body.
I know this sounds like something out of Cirque Du Soleil, but it’s true.
I would lift my feet and plant them on his legs, then walk up till I reached his chest.
Then - and this is the exciting part - I would flip over and start again.
It was immensely fun.
For a four-year-old, hugely entertaining.
And didn’t happen nearly enough.
Dad would come in the door and be greeted by, “Daddy! Daddy! Pick me up!”
Obligingly, he would take my hands and let me use him as an acrobatic frame for my . . . acrobatics.
Again and again.
Then smile and set me down and go on with his duties.
I would happily return to mine.
This went on for years.
Years.
Then one day, I think I must have been about nine, Dad uttered the fateful words, “Sorry, honey, you’re just too heavy for me!”
I stared at him, aghast.
How could this be?
He was still taller than me.
Stronger than me.
Broader than . . . you get the picture.
How could I possibly be too heavy for him?
But, sadly, it was true.
And, just like that, my daddy’s frame climbing days were over.
Sigh.
Last night, I was watching one of our youngest granddaughters climb up her daddy.
Giggling happily as she did so.
And suddenly, I was remembering.
Being four-years-old again.
Holding my Daddy’s hands.
Using his help and his frame to do my acrobatics.
A sweet, sweet memory.



15 comments:

  1. And for some reason you've left me all teary eyed.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. As I was last night, watching that tiny girl!

      Delete
  2. Gee, all Dad for me was to pick me up by the hands and toss me in the air, grab my feet and toss me again, then repeat the process. If I tried that with one of my grandkids today I would be arrested and charged with child abuse.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hmmm . . . that explains a lot about you . . .

      Delete
  3. Still teaching our girls that fine art...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Pictures and images in my mind just like yours. My eyes are misty.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You've made my day, Susan! If I can bring a fond memory to someone, my day is complete!

      Delete
  5. This was beautiful Diane, what a sweet and wonderful memory... thank you for sharing:)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm so glad you could share it, Launna!

      Delete
  6. No need for gyms back then, was there? Everyone got a workout just living!

    What a sweet memory, indeed.

    I had to snort at George's comment :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep. George. He definitely rates a snort!

      Delete
  7. I remember my kids climbing up their dad and then flipping back down to the floor. Thanks for the memory.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was definitely a universal activity! So glad it brought back sweet memories for you as well!

      Delete
  8. Hi, I found your blog through Make My Saturday Sweet on Amanda's Books and More. I am your newest follower. A follow back to Carole's Chatter would be fantastic. Hope you are having a good week.

    ReplyDelete

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Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .

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