When the Engine Light is Red — Don’t Ignore It

Through my Dad’s choices, he taught me that if you choose a substance to cope with life, that substance will become your life.

Years ago, when my Dad was still alive, I heard an announcer on the radio — he was a new father — give a couple of examples of how his own father still helps him out.

“When the engine light on my car is red,” said the announcer, “I can call my Dad and he’ll come right over and check it out. Or if I have stuff to take to the dump, my Dad will let me borrow his truck.”

The announcer then asked listeners what our own Dad’s mean to us.

And I must confess that when it comes to my Dad, being on hand to help me out with mundane tasks is not what first came to mind. For starters, we didn’t even live in the same province. Plus he was in a nursing home now and couldn’t remember what he had for lunch, never mind what a red engine light might indicate.

But even at the best of times, those sorts of everyday tasks weren’t what I would associate with my Dad anyway. My Dad didn’t teach me to fish or drive or mow the lawn. My Mom and my brother’s did all that. I was six when my Dad moved out and my parents divorced shortly after. I usually only saw him once a week for dinner.