Clever Interaction

During my later years at BYU, I would occasionally be afforded the opportunity to work with my father. As a land surveyor for a local business, he’d occasionally have a small project or two that he needed an ‘extra man’ to conduct. Inasmuch as I could certainly use the extra money and he knew that I was familiar with surveying, our arrangement worked rather well. His company acknowledged Dad’s requirement and authorized him to employ his son for a day or two from time to time. Additionally, as a newly married son, we both knew that I had matured sufficiently to appreciate and even enjoy the privilege of spending a day alone with my father. It was a delightful occurrence now and then.

One Saturday afternoon, having completed a full day of work, we were traveling toward his home in his old beat-up survey truck. I had left my vehicle at his home and was ensconced in the ‘shotgun’ side of his bench seat. As Dad drove us along, a question popped into my mind and I decided to ask it of Dad. “Dad” I said, “How do you want to die?” I’d thought I was being contemplative and thought to engage him in deep conversation. To my surprise (and hidden delight), he immediately replied with a phrase that I could only believe he’d preserved from his military service amongst course servicemen. “In the arms of a jealous man’s wife!” he pronounced brazenly with a measure of delight that he knew he’d shock this prudish son long embedded in the elevated culture of a church university. Taken back by the unabashed flagrancy of his bold pronouncement, I recoiled at its message and I shied timidly quiet across from him. As I regained my composure, I settled on an approach that I was confident would arrest his plan and restore my self-assurance. Raising my head from its slightly bowed position, I retorted “You realize I’m going to have to tell Mom?” Driving, steadily fixed on the road ahead, he slightly allowed his eyes to almost imperceptibly glance toward me in response to my declaration. Almost simultaneously, he shook his head slightly to acknowledge my threat. We then proceeded along, each quietly aware of the upheaval that assuredly awaited us upon our arrival at mom. During the moments of my reflection, I thought it uncommon how Dad’s response had come as though he’d expected me to ask him the question. His veiled smirk had belied his amusement at his son’s obvious alarm; and I wondered what lay behind this man’s stoic gaze as we neared his demise. The evident absurdity of my father’s response was humorous and revealed his playfulness with his ‘attempt to convey’ licentiousness – a clear duplicity to his long-standing righteousness. He knew that I would carry through with my intent to tattle and had steeled himself against any repercussions that might await him!

Arriving at his driveway, I quickly exited and walked briskly toward the front door in order to precede him. Stepping into the living room, I spied mom resting comfortably on the sofa across the room. Stepping forward with resolved loyalty to mom and fealty, I stood erect and announced to my unsuspecting mother- “Mom, do you know how Dad wants to die?” I was rather pleased with myself inasmuch as I'd demonstrated fealty toward my mother and had gotten the upper hand on my father in his crass response to my thoughtful query.  With that hanging in the air, her gaze quickly fastened upon me. I could see her mind churning with the message I’d so prominently delivered; and I was confident I’d provided fodder that would offer opportunity for exchange for months to come. Her eyes seemed to convey a weary, ‘Now what!” and I ignored it; set on promoting the controversy I was certain Dad’s conjecture would supply. Just then, Dad stepped through the storm door into the living room a step or two behind me. As my mother’s gaze shifted in tenor; passing me, anchoring on Dad as if to say ‘Alright Donald, fess up”! He must’ve surmised what had just taken place at the behest of his tattling son. With Mom’s eyes drilling into Dad’s, it became evident that I had accomplished my nefarious plan and introduced controversy between two of the people I loved the most. My impish design appeared to be unfolding!

There behind me, obviously caught red-handed, my father stood facing the expected fury of his beloved (bamboozled) wife and Eternal companion. Conveying without words, her gaze announced her query as if to say ‘What’s up?!’. To this, my father simply explained, “Honey, that’s you!” He’d turned the phrase so artfully as to represent himself as the ‘jealous man’ and her as his wife. Thus, he wanted to die in her arms! I quickly discerned the cleverness with which he’d represented a simple phrase and marveled at his adroit skill; maneuvering amidst us loved ones. I turned slowly to face my father and shaking my head in admiration, quietly said “Well played, old man.”

Hoisted on my own petard, I realized that my father had enjoyed toying with me mentally as he skillfully maneuvered me while all along expecting me to do exactly that which I had done. Adeptly, he’d patiently waited for me to set the trap that I foolishly thought I’d ensnare him with. Then, when least expected, he had turned my trap on me and snared me with my own words. Having been played with so skillfully, he amplified the mental wound that he’d impaled me with by leveling his eyes at mine and whispering his single accusation- “Lightweight”. I’d remember that exchange between my father and me as he executed a comeuppance that I’d deserved from the outset.

I’d woefully underestimated my father!