Sometimes our father was silent on matters I’d hope he’d respond, defend himself, speak up, correct errors, adjust and align to brings matters a little more in his favor. 

But now, I think I understand, or at least I am beginning to understand.

He seemed to sit and watch, observing closely all that was gong on around him, taking it all in, and I’d wait for an assessment but he’d offer none. 

I think that now I understand.

Sometimes our father relayed naval stories of such graphic violence with such painful and long-lasting ramifications that I’d wish he’d hold his silence. 

But, he could not. 

Action at sea and losses of friends to the water, the onboard fires, the sirens and warnings of imminent attack were buried deeply in his memory and left him a gentle man, tolerant, but not naming of fools. He was one who entertained wild and youthful ideas while seeing it all against a backdrop requiring he not respond, speak up, correct the errors, adjust and align or brings matters a little more in his favor.

Perhaps, even though I hsve never faced action at sea or the graphic fears that are the backdrop of war, I can begin to understand why I tend to choose silence when others may prefer me to respond.

Perhaps it is so — silence is golden.

I am grateful to Mercury readers who inquire about my health following my bout with salmonella. 

As I have written, it knocked me out. 

Serendipitously, my sister was already scheduled to come to the USA from South Africa to attend my son’s wedding and Jenny has been more than able to assist me in my recovery. 

My doctors inform it will take a while but assure me my “numbers” are “trending” in the right direction. 

While it is not where I would like it to be, I am walking 5000 or more steps a day.

I have canceled my travel plans for the rest of 2025. I don’t like canceling arrangements with people who have relied on me for years to bring my academic portion to their family therapy programs. 

My immediate goal is to rally all of my physical and emotional strength so I am strong enough to stand for long enough to perform my son’s wedding and hold onto my emotions while I do it. His walk down the aisle with 7 groomsmen (one being his brother) and me, and the entry of the 7 bridesmaids, then the bride, is sure to evoke powerful emotions for us all in the home church of his beautiful fiance in a city three hours from where we live.

It surprises me, now that my sons are adults, what catches my attention abou them and makes me burst with pride. They’re not the things I anticipated when they were young boys.  I think I was falsely oriented around things of a more grandiose nature.

I enjoy watching them engage with other adults and how they do so with ease, respect,  kindness and humility.

They know how to say “thank you,” and when to say “thank you.” This, in my opinion,  is one of the most important skills a human can have. I meet men twice their ages who have apparently not acquired this skill. 

They are naturally respectful of the elderly. They hold back at doors and open doors. They’re eager to  give a seat to someone who needs it. They’re on the lookout for how they serve, how they can help. This is more impressive to me than a lot of other things I thought I’d find impressive.

They do not hold back if they want me to know something, want to ask me something, or request a favor. I love the fact that they’re open about their needs and their wants, but they’re quite willing to hear yes as they are to hear no. No is tough for me, but I am learning.

My sons live in different cities from each other yet it appears they’re almost daily in contact with each other. That they are friends with each other means the world to me.