It has been the longest journey I have taken to date, yet the shortest in distance. I return to you dear readers, even if just briefly before I continue settling my father’s affairs. Many of you have been patient and supportive to not only The Elyria Herald but to me personally as well. I thank you for that and am excited to share a memory of my dear old dad.

It started back on the farm. Mum and dad weren’t of nobility or from a family with carts full of gold. We didn’t have servants, squires, or jesters yet dad seemed to make my brother and I feel like we owned the kingdoms, were valiant knights, and we would laugh all day long. My dad, Jameson Wilshire wasn’t defined by his work to the king as a farmer. Rather he will be remembered by his booming voice, jovial nature, and by every passer-by who met him. Over 2 meters tall, you didn’t forget Farmer Jameson, and he certainly never met a stranger.

Something that has come to mind these past few days, was his ability to tease his way to friendship. Growing up we learned quickly that his practical jokes meant love, but it also kept us on our toes. A favorite story of mine was when I was still a young Elyrian, toddling around the world, dad decided to drop a cold stone from the river down my shorts. He used to sit and drink black tea with these cold stones from the river to recover from a long day’s work. This evening, in particular, was no different, and he had the added joy of watching me dance around with a cold stone in my shorts. Mum shouted something from the front of the cottage and dad got up to investigate.

I was only a young boy, I could barely walk, but I waltzed around to and fro trying to reach the cold stone before it froze me to death. As I stumbled I remember the relief of dislodging this horror from my pants.

Mum and dad came back around to enjoy the sunset and found that I had resumed my playtime. My dad took a big drink and with a cheeky grin asked if I had gotten the cold-stone out of my pants. I nodded as I played with my wooden horse. Mum, seeing no stone around, asked where I had put it.

I looked up at my dad and with all the pride I could muster, pointed at his large cup of black tea. Mum couldn’t contain herself, her laughter was the highlight of my evening as my dad realized the cold-stone he had put in my shorts just moments before, was at the bottom of his drink. He looked at me with surprise, dumped his large drink out, and with a big grin said;

“Well done son. You are already turning out to be a great Wilshire.”

Words like these are etched in our memories, moments that live on past death. I hope you too have a memory of your loved ones. If not, take a moment today and make one, you won’t regret it.

Until next time,

Be Bold. Be Known.
Bradford J. Wilshire