Today is Father’s Day so I’d like to use this space to talk about my dad and how he shaped me into this person who enjoys reading and writing so much. He has actually been the greatest intellectual influence in my life and he is definitely the reason why I fell in love with literature, since an early age. Therefore, the mere fact that I am writing this blog now can totally be blamed on him!
Throughout my childhood and teenage years I recall my father as a very busy man. Between his family business, his duties at the local Lions International club and a couple of other associations related to his children’s school and church, he was constantly involved in a number of activities. When we were all at home though, he would either engage the entire family in a conversation about life or he would just be reading. That is, when he was not completing Diario El Comercio’s Geniograma, a crossword puzzle meant for very knowledgeable people. My dad was certainly one of them!
As much as he knew, however, whenever any of us wanted to know the meaning of a word that was new to us, my dad would always tell us go look it up in the dictionary. My siblings and I were just not happy about it! Why couldn’t he just tell us its meaning instead? Only now we realize that it was his way to subtly force us to read and make sure we were aware of all the meanings that particular word could have, based on the context. Ultimately, that would enrich our vocabulary as well. I think he did accomplish that!
Dad has always been a great storyteller as well. He would share with us the most fantastic stories of his poor but happy childhood in a small village called Contamana, by the Ucayali River. He still does, whenever we’re all together, which rarely happens these days since we all live in different places. We all enjoy his stories so much, that it doesn’t matter to us that we may have heard them several times before!
And here’s something he doesn’t know but I think it’s about time I share with everyone: I would be so curious about what he would be reading that when he was not at home, I would sneak into his room, not to play with my mom’s make-up or clothes, but to read whatever novel my dad would have on his nightstand. He had a mini library in his studio but I had no interest in those books, I wanted to read what he was reading!
Funny enough, often I didn’t understand 100% what I was reading because the books were not suitable for my age, but I didn’t care because doing it somehow made me feel more like an adult. That is how I discovered some of the best writers and novels and my love for contemporary Latin American literature was officially born. I guess that is also the reason why that we both enjoyed the same type of books nowadays.
I could certainly go on and talk about dad’s influence in my life for pages and pages but I just wanted to give you an idea on how much he had to do with my love for reading, writing and sharing stories.
I am very grateful for such priceless gift.
Feliz Día del Padre Ferdi, aunque hoy no esté con ustedes, estás en mi corazón y en mi mente… ¡Te quiero mucho!