One of my favorite parts about being a father is the uniqueness of each of my children. Each of them shares some mix of the mental and physical characteristics of my wife and me, and by ancestry, our parents. Personality, however, comes from within, and she is all Darby. If I had to select one of my children and say, “this one will someday be a CEO,” she would be the one.
Since Darby was old enough to understand the value of a penny, she has been determined to make something of herself. Part of this may be due to the fact that by the time she was three, we were in the midst of our first recession: the big layoff of ’01. When you are the littlest amongst three kids, you learn quickly to make sure you get your share. And she did with stubborn grace; determined to succeed, despite the odds.
"Share" at that time included not just physical items like food and toys; it also included more precious things like time and attention from mom and dad and her siblings. In Darby’s case it also meant growing up a little faster than the first two. Whether it was dolls or skateboarding or target shooting or riding a bike, Darby learned to do it almost the same time her older brother did, and in some cases a little earlier. In that way, she could ensure some attention if by no other means than being caught up in the fray.
One of her “firsts” was the X-Ray for a potential broken arm. Seems she thought it would be a great idea to go down the slide in our backyard on one of the sleds left over from the snowfall that winter. About two seconds into the run she flipped off and the rest is history. The sprain probably took longer to heal than a break would have, but only because she would not let it keep her from keeping up with her siblings.
Another "first" led to a nickname of sorts: Dead-eye Darby! She had accompanied her brother Izy and me to an Indian Guides' gathering at the house of one of the braves. His dad had a shooting range of sorts set up in the backyard for the guys to take turns blowing the heads off of Barbie dolls, wiping out Godzilla action figures and shattering plastic poker chips. After the boys had taken their round, Darby was asked if she wanted a try, and of course she said, "Yes!" Now, the boys had done OK, but little did they realize that underneath those braids lay the soul of a sniper. I don't remember her missing a shot, and neither did the boys.
One of her most endearing traits is the inclusive nature of her spirit. Her inner circle is so big it is a sphere we call Earth. Everyone is welcome as long as they do not hurt anyone else in the circle (although unfortunately there are some that have done more than that). Over the years she has had to become more careful, but even now to most, Darby is a true friend in every sense of the word.
This summer for the fourth year, Darby went to “Grammy and Grampa camp” in the mountains to see my parents, attend drama camp for a few weeks, and spend time with one of her true friends. They see each other once a year and exchange a phone call or two the rest of the time. Their regular lives are as different as day and night, but they are kindred spirits, and their summers are priceless.
This summer was especially wonderful for my mom and Darby. Darby gets much of her strength of character and her way with the arts, like drawing and crafts, from her mom. Her passion for sewing (note I did not say fashion design, that one still comes from mom as anyone who has seen me trying to select a wardrobe will contend) comes from me.
Grammy taught me to sew when I was about Darby’s age. As the mother of two boys, she was determined that we would know how to mend a rip or affix a button when a crisis arose. I took things a little further and reached a point where I could actually make little stuffed animals (I found out girls really like that around Valentine’s Day) and costumes for plays and Halloween.
Several years ago, Grammy had moved on from sewing clothing and taken on the art of quilting. And, as my other two children and my nephew had no interest at all in the subject, she was beginning to think the passion for the needle and thread would end with her. Then a miracle occurs and Darby asks for a sewing machine one year for Christmas. “Is this just a fleeting interest or is there hope?” There is hope Grammy, and her name is Darby.
Darby is the apprentice for whom my mother has waited a lifetime. You see, where many children her age are being labeled hyperactive and attention deficit, Darby is the opposite when it comes to things like sewing. She is extremely patient, and wants to learn everything about the subject. My mother had her for three weeks in which time she passed on the basics of quilting and the results were amazing.
She made a couple of purses, a wallet, and a small blanket for her dolls. Next year they are going to make actual clothing. Thank goodness for “Grammy’s Quilting Camp.”
When I am on the road, I miss all my children, but in many ways I miss Darby the most. I had more time with the other two when they were young. I have watched Darby grow up at a distance, and though we spend time on the phone and online, it is not the same. She is my cuddle bug. When it is stormy outside or cold or I just want to curl up, watch a movie and eat popcorn on the bed, Darby is the one that cozies up to me and will spend the day being happy just being with me. She is the one who says to me, "I could move up to Michigan and live with you, daddy." As they say, “like father, like daughter (again).”
- Ken
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