Saturday Mornings

Some Saturday mornings when all feels right with the world I miss my dad, and I wish he could have lived longer. Now that I’m a mother I miss him in a different way. I have a child of my own now to whom I will eventually tell all of my father’s tales.

Sometimes I see my dad in my little Noah, be it a flash in Noah’s smile or my dad’s gentleness in Noah’s twinkling eyes. My dad’s eyes always twinkled just like Noah’s. I look at old photos of my dad doing what he loved so much, fishing.

I feel like a kid again.

FishingEvery Saturday morning when I was a kid I remember waking up so early, when it was still dark and cold out, and getting to Sheepshead Bay to board a boat to fish with my dad. Sometimes we’d head out to Long Island, but obviously Brooklyn was closer. When I got older and too cool for fish guts and chum, my dad understood and went on fishing trips with my mother and my brother without me.

My dad’s been gone for some time now and all of my Saturday mornings have been different since, but I’m made up of 50% of him and he still lives on. The other 50% of me is all my mother, and that 50% of me is very much alive. I take after my mother so much, and in photos it’s evident. There are way more photos of my mother alone in photos, that my dad took, than the other way around. My momz was always running to statues or landmarks to get there first and get ridiculous photos taken. I never realized until now just how much I’m like her.

My dad took these photos while on vacation in Korea with momz before he got really sick. I remember she’d shoved these pictures in my face laughing and I had no idea what I was looking at. Totem poles in Seoul?


No. Statues of Korean fertility gods.

Apparently, my parents had run across them while on a hike in the mountains, and my mother just had to point out the big wooden penis. She also had to sit beneath the big wooden penis. My dad was used to these kind of Kodak moments with my momz. The thing is I have so many photos like these, of my family. Some Saturday mornings when I’m missing my dad, or my mother who’s thousands of miles away, I just look at these wooden penis photos.

Other photos too, of course.

Always dishing,




  1. OkieChris

    I woke up this morning at 4 am think why?
    I check twitter & I see your blog. As I read it I was reminded of my Dad & how he would sing loud and terrible “What a Beautiful Morning” to me just to irritate me. (I wasn’t a morning person)
    Then I remembered getting up super early to go fishing with him or go to work at his gas station. Such great memories!
    Oh what I would do to hear him sing that song again.

    Love you Jun!

    1. OMG my mother who has passed used to come into my bedroom in the morning and sing that horribly high pitched as she opened my curtains. “Oh what a beautiful morning…what a beautiful day…” Uggg I would throw the covers over my head. I also wish I could hear that song one more time.

  2. Thank you for making my day. I lost mom a few months ago and I have found that I laugh a lot looking at my children and seeing my parents in them. I also have tons of pictures of my mom and very few of my dad. He was the photographer.

  3. kcsmum

    I see your Dad in Noah too. Sometimes even the wisdom from Appa shines in Noah’s little toddler eyes. You and Momz are one in a million. I feel lucky to learn from both of you. Enjoy your Saturday. Your dad is smiling.

  4. Sparky

    I love this blog especially. It called to mind my defacto father. My grandpa and your dad were so alike. He too loved fishing and I spent many a before sunrise morning going to the lake to fish with him. Thank you for a lovely way to start a Saturday.


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