The virtues of our parents can fall on us too

The first table my dad made and sold in the UK

As we grow up we see what is relevant to us at the time.  My dad was - in my child mind - someone who always expected a lot of me, sometimes more than I probably thought I could deliver; and my mum was someone who seemed to be happy no-matter what (in a way I didn't always trust her praise).  They were both teachers.  I have an old tape recording of me saying at the age of 4 "My daddy teaches CDT [Craft Design & Technology] and my mummy teachers music." That's probably the only description I'd use.

In fact they both came to train here (in Kirby College, Liverpool) as teachers on the first programme ever run by their country.  (The Journey took 7 planes!!)  They both then had to return to  Malaysia to fulfil their government teaching commitment (5 years), before deciding to migrate. 

In my mum's papers I found this reference (above) from her Malaysian school, and in a box of photographs were numerous cards to both of them from ex-students (rightly or wrongly) telling them "Dear Teacher, there is no-one we like as much as you.".  In fact, my dad's popularity as a teacher continued in the UK and once stopped him getting mugged!  He was at a cashpoint and was told “Give me your money”.  He turned around and the same voice said “Sir – what are you doing here?” – apparently he was the only teacher who actually had time for the boy…they went for a coffee (and a “dad lecture”) and I like to think it was a turning point the young man needed.

As well as teaching my dad pursued two other passions – studying law and automotive mechanics – he loved fixing cars.  I used to resent not ever having a new car, but now I love that I can get a slightly “nicer” model if I’m willing to put a bit of TLC in – and what do you know – my husband is an automotive engineer.  My mum became qualified in Special Educational Needs, and produced the school show each year...something I did when I was teaching drama.  They both also invested in property - sometimes "flipping" a house, sometimes renting it out.  You don't realise how much you learn, but when I had the opportunity I did the same, and two years ago, my dad and I moved the remaining rentals we still had into "Steel Hibiscus".  The name?  Well, I always liked Steel Magnolias as meaning "a woman of uncommon fortitude", and  the Hibiscus is the national flower of Malaysia...it seemed appropriate.

I also love driving - in a way it's just as well as I drive my dad places rather than the other way round. 

My dad (L) and friends in Europe 1960

Whilst I was in the "dad taxi" I never paid much mind to the fact that my dad drove his friends all the way around Europe one summer - he even watched the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome!!  When we park in the disabled bay now, it's easy to forget that.

Like many of my friends' senior parents, my dad needs a little more exercise. It's easy to just assume that's simply a common trait in the family...I only run because I have to (or if someone is chasing me). In fact, that's where I'm the outlier! My grandfather has trophies for tennis and golf, and my dad has numerous ones for badminton - he once won a game playing with one hand tied behind his back holding a chair! ...and while my mum got me dancing well enough that I could hold my own in my University Ballroom Society - it was she who got honours in all her ballet exams even winning a place (one of only 2 students) at the prestigious Urdang Academy...she didn't take it. She chose to teach children with disabilities. The sad part is, that most people will remember my mum from my wedding walking, then, with a hunch.

Because - if we are blessed to - we grow up with our parents, this can make us less likely to notice them as anything other than as satellites to our own lives.  Lives where we want to be seen - and, perhaps right now, are at the age we can be - at our most vivacious, driven and successful.  We forget - or perhaps don't really even think - that they had a richness of experience that was unique to them and the place they carved in the world. And worse, because their outward appearance gets a little more frail we begin to forget their strength.

I am currently in a dispute over some charges on my dad's EE bill.  He had an agreement that they would contact him when he was nearing his overseas call limit (they know he is registered blind)...and they sent a text.   (Actually, they didn't - we've checked, they said they did, and then...which is probably worse dismissed it by adding "We sent a text which you couldn't see due to your disability and so you ran up further charges".)  I'm not just livid because he's my dad, but I'm outraged that this is their behaviour towards people who are disabled blind.  The ins and outs of the above are not for this blog entry, but it made me think about how even though my dad may be "invisible" (no humour intended) to them, they are nonetheless seeing him at full force - through me.  While I can write about my heritage, I always remember to live my legacy.