The Wooden Bowl (and What Will Happen To Delusions of Adequacy)

I originally posted the story below in 2006 on the death of my Father.

I’ve been blogging since 2005. I’ve covered IBM, Analyst Relations, Covid-19, humor, pets, sarcasm, and introverts.

Unfortunately, my medical condition has worsened, and I can’t keep up with both dying and blogging.

A few people have extended their best wishes. Some posted what they liked about it, which I found interesting. Some found themselves (those who didn’t know they were introverts).

If you could, leave a comment as to what you liked, or if by chance I helped educate you on something.

I’ve enjoyed it, but all things come to an end, and so this is it for Delusions of Adequacy. Thank you all for reading.

I’m leaving the blog open because there is a lot of educational subjects, probably 10,000 memes and some stuff that made it to the top of Google for a while.

I’ve had fun, but since I’m not having much fun with my chemo, something had to give. Actually, a lot of things had to give.


Original post

My Father passed away today and I won’t be posting for a while. I’ll leave you with this story.

The Wooden Bowl
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.
The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. “We must do something about Grandfather,” said the son. I’ve had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.
So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.
When the family glanced in Grandfather’s direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, “What are you making?” Just as sweetly, the boy responded, “Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.” The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening, the husband took Grandfather’s hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
On a positive note, I’ve learned that, no matter what happens or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.
I’ve learned that, regardless of your relationship with your parents; you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life.
I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.”
I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.
I’ve learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others, your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.
I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.
I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.
I’ve learned that every day; you should reach out and touch someone.
People love that human touch – holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.
I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.

10 thoughts on “The Wooden Bowl (and What Will Happen To Delusions of Adequacy)

  1. John,

    My deepest condolances to you and your family. You’ve shared other personal information about your father in this blog, and we feel for the loss.

    I know you’ll remember him fondly when you turn the key on your shared german roadster(circa 1964).

    Reflect on all your memories, and cherish the good ones.

    Mike

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  2. Thanks for all the cool stories. As an introvert, it was neat to find someone like myself out there. I’ve been a lurker for a while now but I held off commenting because I was wanted to find some inspiring or comforting words to make it a little easier but nothing comes to mind that isn’t a platitude. I’ll just say fair winds and following seas.

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    1. Thanks. I’m glad you got something out of it. I’m a lurker in a lot of places because I think I’ve been pretty clear about my introverted nature. Thanks for reading

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  3. Your honesty, insight and humor will be greatly missed. When the day arrives, enter with gladness the rest He has prepared for you, from the foundation of the world!

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