Would you please give a warm welcome to my guest blogger (drum roll, please), my Dad: Nick Huizenga!
Since retirement I have done some chores that I have not done for many years, but circumstances change. I have been making our bed and folding laundry. I “don’t mind” these tasks, but I don’t take the care that Joan does, and I don’t do them as well.
With one exception: the folding of socks. I fold the socks very carefully; and, more than “not minding,”I take some pleasure in doing so. Joan has shown me an easier way, but I persist in doing it the way I learned many years ago.
I fold socks the way my mother showed me when I was a small child. And I experience good feelings as I do so, fondly remembering my mother.
Though this cherished instruction goes back over 75 years, I recall Mother recruiting me for this special job. I was delighted that I was considered worthy of being such an important assistant. And I felt proud when Mother said that I had done it well. At that time I had at least five siblings who competed for Mother’s attention, and this attention was powerful.
Imagine, an old man sitting on a bed folding socks on a Monday afternoon because it is uncomfortable to stand, still affected by loving words spoken over three-fourths of a century before.