My father has many attributes: he is hard working, intelligent, brave, and extremely generous. Although there are few, he does have his vices: cigars, red wine, and road rage. The later could be mistaken for a common trait amongst many Americans – collateral damage due to the fast and furious race against time. When my Dad hits the road, he is king and he is sure to let you know it taking a Machiavellian approach, when it comes to the rules of the road. Rather than an iron fist, he has an iron foot. Subsequently, he has incurred numerous speeding tickets…. an echo of Hammurabi’s “eye for an eye". But, I suppose it's only fair.
This eventually caught up with him and rather than lose more points on his license and pay a steep fee, he volunteered himself for driving school. It was the summer of 2005, when my Dad found himself in driver’s rehab flanked by other road ragers, who were mainly DC cab drivers whose original places of origin spanned from northern Africa to India. Rather, than take a back seat and snub the course, he embraced it.
There is the overplayed and not to mention overused phrase, “this changed my life” most often directed at self-flattery. Since this is not about me, but about my Dad (who never sings his own praises), I think it is appropriate and have decided to apply it to his driving school experience. Let me explain.
Prior to this course, my Dad began his day full of undaunted purpose and determination slyly placing vitamins by our cereal bowls and making sure we ate a balanced meal, while he guzzled coffee. I always tried to sneak out the door and avoid the “morning ritual” only to suddenly see my Dad standing at the door or outside scraping my car windshield as he casually handed me a banana or something he considered “to be brain food”. I would smile graciously and quietly leave cursing under my breath.
Following this driver’s ed course, I began to notice a change in my Dad – not just in how he drove (please note: he still speeds today) but more so in how he began his day. No longer was there coffee in hand come the crack of dawn. Rather, he would calmly sip water while he ate a handful of nuts. Soon a bowl of muesli would follow and then the black acid would make its debut. And for a jolt of protein, he would have some yogurt. The foundation had been laid: hydration, starches, proteins, and omega fatties and beautiful beautiful caffeine. No doubt, good things were in store for his day.
I, myself, along with my Mom would groggily stumble into the kitchen and grab our coffee and slink away as my Dad stood there eager to make conversation. By then, he had already devoured along with the nuts and water five newspapers and possibly the Economist. Although I was impressed (as well as wondered if I lay at the bottom of the gene pool), I could not handle it – nor could my mother so we would quickly grab our coffee and leave (mind you: no nuts, no water, and certainly never muesli). We were both of the coffee and toast breeds – not to mention grumpy morning people and therefore honored our true selves though our morning ritual – as did my Dad.
Although I was intrigued by the change in my Dad, I did not inquire further. He seemed happy and that was all that mattered. Later, I learned of the story behind his revised his morning ritual - the driving course, being the reason.
Apparently, his driving instructor had made quite the impact beginning the first day by asking the class how they, themselves, began their day. The majority of replies consisted of “ I have a cup of coffee and then I hit the road". The instructor shook his head and suggesested that they rise earlier, have some water first and then maybe have some nuts, which were both a source of protein and fats and therefore good clean energy. Coffee was not the only option and while they did not necessarily have to go “cold turkey”, they should, at least, try to abstain for the first hour of their day.
Evidentially, my Dad took this to heart and resolved to change his own morning ritual. Since then, it has always been the same. He is the first one up drinking water and pecking away at some walnuts or almonds, while we all slumber and snore. Soon muesli follows and then coffee with lots of milk. I wish I could commit to such a ritual. Along with reading five newspapers plus the Economist, I am more apt to have my coffee while I read the writer’s almanac poem of the day or peruse my latest kindle purchase. World events and water along with the occasional handful of almonds will follow, I assure you, but much later in the day. Despite a family history of heart disease and osteoporosis, I will stick to coffee and bread and even pastry. I can’t help it. Though when things go awry, I often wonder if my morning ritual is in need of some repair. Perhaps, so but for now I am still kicking and so is my Dad.
Breakfast of Champions - LesGensFaims longchamp fi958---bag
Posted by: longchamp fi958---bag | 06/14/2013 at 11:42 PM