I consider myself very lucky to have two wonderful fathers in my life. The first is mine, a zen master of the highest order who has always lifted me up, telling me from as far back as I can remember how much he loves me. He has gently guided me back to the path/real world when I have veered well off it and encouraged every brilliant (and yes also many of the slightly sub brilliant) idea or enterprise I have had. Unconditionally, which I now understand to be a rare and beautiful thing.
Dad raised my brothers and I on a solid diet of Monty Python and Willy Wonka, a land where humour and imagination were rightly lauded as the true gods they are. He taught me to love and truly appreciate music and sound (and the dance floor when your favourite song comes on) and birds and travel and a cold beer on a warm day. His consistency has been one of my foundation stones.
The second father who has blessed my life is my son’s. His bond with our boy, particularly now as he is becoming a man and making his own way in the world, is unshakeable and solid, peppered with laughter and music too. They are peas in a pod no matter where they each find themselves. My son shares his father’s easygoing nature, his gait and stance, his musical genius and most importantly his remarkable ability to remain calm in the face of disaster until it isn’t.
And I see with both of them how the greatest gift they have given is to believe in their children no matter what. Happy Father’s Day to all the wonderful men out there who hold our worlds together. Oh how we love you for it.
Photo of my father constantly exploring taken in the rope laybrinth at Biennale.
Words c. Kerrie Basha, 2018