Scribbles – a masterpiece in the making

With every stroke of the pen in his chubby little fist, from the tiniest of dots to a full-page obliteration of everything that had been there just a moment ago, it was always followed by “Come.” He wanted me to see.

“What is it?” I would ask. And there would always be a pause as much as if to say, ‘you’re supposed to guess.’

So, I’d take a long look, maybe scratch my chin, fold my hands or tent my fingers and ponder as if deep in thought, and finally offer a suggestion, an approximation, of whatever came to mind that the long wiggly line or infinitesimally small blot of ink might possibly be to this budding author.

“A boat?”

Yes, it was a boat. He was quite pleased that I had accurately described that for which he had taken great pains in putting his thoughts on paper.

Of course, if I said, “That is the Grand Canyon with the Colorado River cutting a new channel, with the setting sun making it all shine like a silver ribbon,” then that would be correct too.

And he would grin at my discernment and turn back to the task at hand.

He’ll be celebrating his 42nd birthday in just three days short of a month from now.

Their three little boys have experienced the architectural wonders of old Europe, and danced in the downpour in the streets of Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco their current residence (“what good is living in a tropical climate if you’re not showering in the summer rainstorms?”) while their father, our son, puts his thoughts on paper, still the musings of a boy turned dad and writer, recording their travels as they explore worlds of long ago.

He is News and Publication Editor at Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) and Content Strategist at PR Consulting, Inc.

But, often, he’s writing about his boys.

Did you know, for example, that the sloping, curved and ornate parapets and supporting balusters of ancient edifices were designed for the express purpose of allowing three small boys to race their Tonka and Hot Wheels cars?

Yes, it’s true. Although the repurposed track turned out to be temporary, it served yet another entry to their journalistic wanderings - climbing the terraced hillsides; short-cutting (getting lost) down narrow brick back alleys; meandering the catacombs; or gazing in wonder before crossing the Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising.

Fun times for these boys. Discovering worlds where grandpa has never been.

Kind of like the scribbles that wander across the pages of my memories.

Photos by his sister Christina Klas who traveled to Budapest for this family ‘portrait’.