Bruiser…
It’s my Dad’s 70th birthday soon…
and while he’s not all that sure about this whole blogging thing his eldest daughter indulges in, I don’t think he’d mind if you knew.
Really, he is pretty stoked to have come within cooee of ‘three score and ten’ – because Lord knows the man has done his level best to test his mortal limits over the decades. I have mentioned some of his earlier years here, but really I would need a book to really cover the personality that provided half my DNA.
Really, he is pretty stoked to have come within cooee of ‘three score and ten’ – because Lord knows the man has done his level best to test his mortal limits over the decades. I have mentioned some of his earlier years here, but really I would need a book to really cover the personality that provided half my DNA.
…
He is larger than life and he exudes more life force than ten younger men… and in a not-unrelated fact, he has also suffered more injuries (and bulldozed Heaven’s knows HOW many less-forceful souls) than anyone else I know. I should know – because despite enjoying a mostly harmonious relationship with him, I have been among the bulldozed.
…
Luckily this less-than-comfortable experience served to teach me to stand up and be counted, if I wanted to avoid being regularly bulldozed. And it’s a hard-earned talent that has stood me in terrific stead in most of my male-dominated workplaces. A woman that can calmly hold her own, unintimidated by masculine bluster, is a woman that will earn respect. Not an easy lesson, but it has paid off in spades.
…
This weekend we are pausing the Granite Glen express momentarily, to barbecue a good steak, fill our wine glasses and toast the man referred to somewhat cheekily by his loved ones as “Bruiser”. And we will marvel that, despite having crashed and galloped his way through broken legs, two knee replacements, a smashed arm, cancer, broken collar bones, ghastly gash injuries from various farm-related ‘incidents’ and goodness knows how many corked thighs and black eyes, Dad is alive, kicking and still going ‘flat biccie’.
…
And in preparation, I am trawling my image archives along with the one gathered by my aunt (dad’s only sister). It is a treasure trove. The first picture in this post almost makes me weep, it’s so sweet.
Could that really be Bruiser?
This child with the head shaped exactly like my Dash?
Oh gosh… this one gets me too.
That is my grandfather holding his newborn son, my uncle, who would one day be a tearaway rodeo rider and then father to four great kids, now a devoted grandfather himself.
My aunt (holder of the photo archive) poses sweetly to the right in her white shoes.
And Bruiser… could that be he at left, with the band aid on one shin?
So upright, shoulders back, half-smile, as close to his much-worshipped father as possible.
…
Soon after this photo was taken, my Dad would head off to boarding school and my grandfather would succumb to a terrible brain tumour a couple of months after that. It’s the only image I have seen of his with his three children and it bring a lump the size of Uluru to my throat.
…
And then there is this one…
This young father with his firstborn child.
Me and my dad.
I have his swarthy dark complexion, the brown eyes, and apparently the very same ‘bulldozer-ish’ approach to things when I get a bit focussed. Or so I’m told.
Thanks Dad. I think!
…
I guess the one thing I always think of, when I am trying to illustrate the kind of man my Dad is today, are his hands.
These are not computer hands.
I guess the one thing I always think of, when I am trying to illustrate the kind of man my Dad is today, are his hands.
These are not computer hands.
Not mobile phone hands.
Not dainty or soft or manicured.
There is even part of a finger missing from his left hand – something about a horse striking at a rail and nicking the pinky. And a doctor pulling off the hanging end section and throwing it in a bin... no microsurgery for these hands!
I cannot begin to imagine that these hands are old.
Or done with.
They are strong and capable and sure.
(I hope) for many, many years to come.
Here’s to you, old fella.
And here’s to bloody well looking after yourself please,
to ensure that I get to blog about the 80th!
13 Comments
Lorac
Many Happy Returns to your Dad!
Anonymous
You are right. The hands say it all.
Happy Birthday to what I think is a great man.
gramps
Reddunappy
What a great tribute to your dad. He sounds like a force to be reckoned with!
Leenie
Magnificent tribute to your dad. Great photos as usual. Hope you have a bash of a birthday party for the guy. The missing finger tip reminds me of my dad. Tough old farmer but quite an dancer. Both he and Mom are gone and dancing together again. Best wishes for both of you.
Sabra
Beautiful.
Reddirt Woman
Happy Birthday to Bruiser!
Your description of your dad jives with my image of a true Aussie man. What a fellow to have for a dad. I hope that Mr. I. has thanked your dad for how he raised his first born. I think with this post maybe, just maybe, you show your dad how much love and respect you have for him.
Enjoy your steak dinner and celebrate your dad evey day.
Helen
A Novel Woman
AH, loved that post! Happy Birthday to your dear dad from a fan in hot and humid Montreal. Love those hand pics.
Jayne
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to Bruiser aka Bush babe and Jeanie's Dad,
Happy Birthday to you!
Love the photos, BB, the ones of his hands tell a million tales!
aussiechic
Awesome luv…..nothin like seeing hands like that – they can tell a million stories….and they are so masculine eh??? I hate those soft hands on men….
Debby
Ooooh~ I'm not sure why my comments are 'taking'.
You and Jeanie? You're from fine stock!
Happy Birthday, Bruiser!
Babe in Babeland
Happy Birthday to your dad! I love old photos. 🙂
d/iowa
i LOVE LOVE LOVE the hand pics. wonderful.
Romaine
Love your pictures. They inspire me to try the same with my dad's hands.