The stereo balance was always set to the middle
It didn’t matter if it was the blue ’82 Reliant K or the ’76 Caprice Classic with “wood” on the sides
It didn’t matter if it was any of his later vehicles, including the ’92 LeSabre I inherited and still own
The balance was always set to the middle
Whenever I drove one of Dad’s cars – that balance immediately went to the right and the back
I’m the driver, I’m the only one in here, ergo the far speakers should be the stronger
The center of the car isn’t the back of the armrest, it’s me!
Dad never thought the center of anything was him
Dad ordered medium sized soft drinks, preferred medium sized engines, medium length (by 1950s standards) haircuts
The two dogs we had were both medium sized and neither purebred
Dad liked his steaks cooked . . . medium
He worked for the USDA, so Dad’s salary never lagged far behind inflation in any given year
But it never rose much further than did inflation either
It was a medium income job that was always medium and always there for him
Dad rarely yelled and never was rough, but he wasn’t passive or effeminate either
When I encountered Aristotle for the first time, I thought that this must be my dad’s philosopher – moderation in all things!
One day I thought of a paradox – immoderate moderation
Dad was excessive in at least one thing – moderation!
But alas, dad wasn’t excessively moderate. Oh, he was with himself – but not when it came to others.
Dad got a little bit crazy at Christmas time – we didn’t necessarily get excessively expensive presents, but we received excesses of presents!
Yes, Dad was also immoderate in terms of mortgage payments
His was paid off rapidly, while others were taking out second loans.
His family would always have a house
Even if the United States Government went bankrupt
There was a time when I was in my early thirties that each Christmas my dad would give my mom an Amish ceramic piece or two
Quaint scenes of children at school, or doing chores; or a woman making qulits.
Dad had apparently been quite immoderate on a trip down to Shipshewana
Must have scooped up a couple dozen or so of these cermaic scenes in a single spree
A few years after Dad died, my brother was cleaning out the basement crawlspace so that my mom could move
Tucked away in some corner were the remaining Amish pieces that Dad had no doubt been planning as future Christmas presents for Mom