JUST A
JIGSAW PUZZLE
I was in a
dither shopping for Father’s Day. There is little a man
86 years of age needs, or wants—at
least not this man. I fussed as I attempted to select
several “sure hit” movies, and then I brazenly tossed in
a jigsaw puzzle, too.
With Dad’s
package ready to mail, I dashed to the post office and
sent it on its way. However, before I was even out of
their parking lot a sense of uncertainty struck me; I
began agonizing about the puzzle. That is, until Dad
received it! He was ecstatic. The method in my madness
was to fill many idle, lonely hours as he dealt with
Mother’s recent death.
The puzzle scene
would surely inspire him, as he’d always been an
outdoorsman. It was a rustic log cabin surrounded by
mountains and pine trees. A timeworn path led to a
sparkling, pristine lake that would beckon any angler.
I envisioned him mentally transporting himself there,
and reliving old memories of fishing and hunting trips.
Yet, soon I was
convinced I should have never sent such a large
puzzle. He had all the border pieces out, but they
would not fit together. I tried to encourage him.
“Dad, I bet you only have one piece out of place.
Sometimes a piece appears to fit, although it really
doesn’t. Keep checking, and double-checking! You’ll
find it, and then you’ll be off and running.”
He remarks
continued. “I know there are border pieces missing from
that darned box!” He was so bamboozled that I finally
quit mentioning the blasted puzzle, and he did too.
Yep, I was sure he had thrown a fit and tossed it out
with the trash.
Several visits
later my curiosity had the best of me so I bravely
asked, “Dad, are you still having problems with the
border of your puzzle?”
“Oh,
heavens no, Kathy,” he replied. “Right now I’m
working on the three trees on the right side, and I
finally attached the chimney to the roof. That thing
hung in thin air for days and nearly drove me batty.
Remember that rocky road leading to the cabin—well;
I am still fighting that doggone thing.” The
tone in his voice spoke volumes, and I gleefully
pretended to remember every detail he described.
He also remarked,
“I sat down to work on the puzzle a few minutes this
afternoon. When I finally looked up, it was three hours
later and I hadn’t even started my dinner!”
At last things
were going perfectly. I was all smiles.
When I next
inquired about his puzzle, he replied with a very
“spirited” tone of voice. “Oh, that? Well, it’s
been done for a week!”
I nearly dropped
the phone. The entire 750-piece puzzle was finished,
and I had one very proud Papa on my hands. It took
everything in me not to giggle and do a jig. He
reminded me of a little boy, terribly confident of his
skills, and he wanted the world to know!
Then Dad
launched an interrogation about gluing puzzles
together! How do you explain “Mod Podge” long distance,
to a man? He’d think I was speaking a foreign
language. I asked him to be patient, and assured him I
would take care of it on my next trip home, as well as
the framing.
When we spoke
again, he mentioned knowing exactly where he wanted the
puzzle hung. Was this a hint that I needed to visit
soon and finish the project? His next words nearly
knocked my socks off. “I have three coats of glue on
the front, and two on the back!”
I was
dumbstruck. “Dad, how did you know what to buy? Are
you sure you used the right thing?”
He replied
with a rather “puffed-up” tone in his voice. “Yes, I
used the right stuff! I bought it at Wal-Mart—I’m
not helpless, you know.”
“But, but…did you
ask a clerk to help you?”
“Well, no! I
just went to the Arts and Crafts Department. Good
grief, I can still read labels on bottles! Now I need
to apply the finish coat.”
“Finish
coat, what is that?” I screeched with humiliation. My
pop knew more about the puzzle business than me!
“Without a
finish coat it might get tacky in humid weather. The
glue bottle says so!” Obviously, he needed no help with
the gluing procedure as it was already a done deal.
It’s time to chat
again, and I’ve braced myself for anything. I doubt Dad
will even buy a frame. He’ll probably whip out his old
miter box and fabricate one for his masterpiece.
He can build anything, such as the home I grew up
in, although he was a tad bit younger then.
Who knows, this
might be the start of something new. Maybe Dad will go
into the framing business at age 86! There’s a first
time for everything, and as he previously explained,
“I’m not helpless, you know!”
©Kathleene S.
Baker 2005
