Seeking Beauty

[ORIGINALLY POSTED 10/10/16]

is the day my dad passed away.  Ten. Ten. 

It’s so strange that people automatically gain another birthday when they die - one for entering this adventure, the other for going on to the next.   I’m just thankful my dad’s “birthdays” are several months apart.

He’s been gone 7 years now and on Saturday morning I thought "Oh I have to tell my dad that..."  Seven. Years.  Later.  Jesus.  That afternoon the appliance repair guy informed me that I needed to buy a new dishwasher.  My 19 month old Kenmore that came with this house was more expensive to fix than replace.

My dad would have told me to go get another Kenmore. He loved Sears. Every time he came to LA he would insist on buying something for my house, and it would either come from Sears or his second love, Sam's Club.  Sturdy.  Dependable. Affordable.  Make life better.

I wasn't so keen on acquiring another Kenmore, given this one's early demise.  Hours after receiving this news I went to dinner at a friend's house and was loading her super cool dishwasher and started coveting its beauty and design.  She suggested that since I own my house that I should not scrimp on appliances.  I thought she was right, but my dad was fairly loudly protesting in my other ear: "What's wrong with another Kenmore?" 

The first night I spent in this house I met my new dishwasher that the flipper had installed. Right before I went to bed, I opened it, removed all the manuals still sitting inside, and loaded it up with freshly-freed-from-their-boxes dishes and utensils.  Moments later, Lucy, Tallulah and I could be found collapsed on the bed. 

We felt at home immediately in our new house, and were beyond exhausted from a full day of zipping back and forth between houses, top down, piled high like Beverly Hillbillies.  The movers were so horrid that what should have been a 7 hour job at most, became a two day 14 hour job. If I wanted things with me that first night it was going to be up to me...and the girls, who I didn't feel comfortable leaving either place given the level of chaos in both.  So, they didn't get any of their normal nearly continuous nap time. 

Seconds after passing out we were all startled awake by a loud strange sound. I think we all thought "This must be what an intruder sounds like here!"  The girls started barking ferociously as if a fleet of intruders had come through the front door.  I jumped to my feet, gathering my wits about me as I did.  Then I heard the water flowing and knew immediately it was the new and mighty dishwasher working its magic.  But, damn was it loud!

So noise played into my choice for a new one. I decided on a Bosch, a notoriously quiet brand. My dad would have just replied "Uh-huh" in response to the declaration of my choice, and there would have been the tiniest bit of silence that I would have nervously filled with the list of its many wonderful traits.

My dad had Midwestern common sense, was fiscally conservative, and thought purchases like this were frivolous and sometimes irresponsible.  He wouldn't have cared about the noise, and he definitely didn't give a hoot about the beauty factor. I care pretty deeply about the beauty factor -- yes, even with a dishwasher – and yes, inside and out.  The inside of this dishwasher is beauteous, stainless steel, brilliantly designed racks, more space than the earlier one by far.  It was gorgeous.  And, I watched videos where people equally enamored showed how quiet and clever it was. 

The beauty factor mattered to the YouTube strangers too!

This is where my dad and I parted ways.  I have been seeking beauty since I can remember.  The mud pies I made as a tiny tot were even an opportunity to create beauty. My dad bought houses because they were the right choice, not because they were beautiful.  He bought American cars because they were made in America.  I bought European cars because I found them beautiful and fun to drive.  My dad bought things that worked and were dependable.  I bought things that were sexy and made my heart sing.

I will never forget the  summer I went to Alaska one summer to work for my dad's business.  I had just learned to drive and he gave me the company van to use while I was there for the summer.  A company van?!  The horror! 

My dad helped me start my own small business in the early 90's, an angel store, and when he saw what I created, he lit up.  Shining like a klieg light, fueled by pride but touched by the beauty, he was moved to tears. Had he seen the same beauty - or better -  elsewhere he likely wouldn't have noticed.  He saw my heart in the creation and knew how much it meant to me.  

In contemplating this dishwasher conversation with my dad these last few days I realize it wasn't that he didn't appreciate beauty.  He just sought it in its purest forms.  He moved to Alaska for its beauty.  Most important, though, he sought beauty on a daily basis in people's hearts -- even those for whom it might be more obscured, covered with dust or seemingly absent to the rest of us.  He would light up when people he loved walked into a room.  

My dad was as much a beauty seeker as I was, he just found it in the places that didn't cost time or money.  And he saw it everywhere, in just about everyone he met.

I wish I hadn't been so hard on my dad for not caring about my kind of beauty.  I wish I had acknowledged him more for the beauty he did seek.

We are all seeking beauty in our own special way.  It's all about what makes our heart sing. 

My dad still makes my heart sing.