How A Daughter Can Love a Father on a Stormy Tuesday Afternoon
Written by Gene Cashman III
Photography by Donna Huffman
he remnants of a cloudburst coated an empty strip mall parking lot. As is the case with May storms the sudden down pour abated as quickly as it came forth. There were severe weather alerts out and the streets were mostly empty. A lone car, however, quickly turned into the lot just as the showers began to let up. The sun intermediately burst from behind towering, black clouds as the vehicle circled the pavement, pulling up to a pump. Thanh folded her elbows and longingly looked out from the passenger-side window of her mother’s Chevy Blazer. She had heard there were tornados in the area and was anxious to get moving.
Her eyes impatiently counted the shallow puddles covering the glassy tarred surface of the service station lot. The air smelled of rain, wet pavement and oil. It distracted her worried mind. Even still, her tummy betrayed her concern and rumbled as new smells drifted on the wind. The aroma of Cantonese cooking filled her nose. She stared at the red panda inviting customers inside the restaurant. Quickly though, with a crackle of thunder, her brain refocused as worry returned. She was fearful her father might be caught out in the storm.
Thanh’s thoughts were again broken by her mother getting back in the car. In the background a radio station played a looped news report, but nothing new was broadcast. Her frustration grew. “He’s fine” her mother assured. Thanh was unconvinced. “Let’s head to the docks” she stated, not leaving room for argument. “Baby, this isn’t like Houston, this isn’t a hurricane.” Thanh stared forward undaunted “go-go!” she stated bluntly. Knowing that further resistance was a waste of time Mrs. Mistler put the car in drive.
Thanh’s father was Mr. Mistler to most, Robert to some, but pa-pee to her. When Thanh was three years old, she’d been told, he had traveled on an airplane for almost two days to meet her. What she does remember and will never forget was first seeing the man in the bright, white shirt and wide brimmed hat standing in the orphanage doorway; how the workers that she loathed quickly scurried about as he walked through the room. She can still see his large frame standing over her and feeling his strong hands pick her up. Her feelings that day would forever be woven into the fabric of her heart. On this day, however, she was apart from her pa-pee.
The Blazer pulled up to a weathered railroad timber that marked the closest edge to the public dock. Wind and rain whipped across the surface of the green water. Thanh quickly unbuckled her seat belt and pressed her small face tight against the front windshield. Her brown eyes searched through the rain for a boat. She knew from their Saturday morning outings that he was probably somewhere in the large creek directly across from the dock. Her eyes fixated on that spot. Quickly the windows fogged over.
Mr. Mistler was no stranger to tense situations. He’d served two tours of duty in Vietnam. Upon discharge he’d gone to work for an oil business in Houston, working many long hours somewhere between Houston and a remote man-made perch in the Gulf of Mexico. However, about a year before hurricane Katrina something in him changed. He wanted to return to Vietnam and in his words, make amends. Unexpectedly, but not out of character, the tough but tender-hearted Mistler returned, with permission and after several trips, with Thanh. He’d apparently fallen in love with her while touring an area he was stationed so long ago. That particular orphanage part of the barracks he once frequented as a solider. After hurricane Katrina he retired to a little oasis (Bluffton) he learned about one hot summer weekend while visiting Paris Island as a post-tour instructor.
Presently, Thanh barely moved. Her knees were precariously perched on the edge of the front seat, her face still pressed against the glass. “Honey, you’d better move back a bit.” Her mom said looking at her with love and nostalgia. “You know this reminds me of all those times I would drive to the ship yard and wait for your father’s shuttle to come in. I would sit for hours and just stare out into the void. He always showed up” she paused and looked Thanh in the eyes “always.” Even still, Thanh kept her vigil. She thought that maybe when the storms blew through he might have beached the boat and found shelter under a tree. She wondered if he was cold or scared or hungry. She wouldn’t let her mind believe he was in trouble. Her father was the strongest thing she had ever known.
Thanh was quick to adapt to her new life, mainly because of the time her pa-pee spent with her. He’d never had a daughter and poured himself into making sure she was secure, loved, and safe. He was her shepherd. Her heart began to swell with emotion as the time dragged on. Where was he and why wasn’t he hurrying up to come home to her. Crocodile tears burst from her eyes. Deb Mistler scooped Thanh up in her arms and held her tight. “Baby girl you’re daddy is the bravest man I have ever known. He is also the smartest. Wherever he is, rest assured, he is thinking only about getting home to us.” Thanh rubbed her eyes and bravely reclaimed her position at the windshield.
It was nearly impossible for Robert to fully retire. He had been working, fighting or teaching for 50 years. Movement, purposeful activity and drive were just not switches his mind could turn off. As such he’d made arrangements to ferry an assortment of supplies, as needed, to work outfits, hunting camps or homes scattered among the coasts tidal islands. He loved adventure, the water and work. This worked scratched his itch while Thanh was in school. On this particular day he was running loads of lumber and nails to a homeowner refurbishing a dock. His craft was sound, but the motor small, especially for a heavier load.
The hour was growing late. Robert was supposed to have been back to dock hours ago. Deb, while not outright worried, was beginning to feel put-out by his apparent foolishness. He had always preached to their now grow sons “respect the water, respect Mother Nature; they will both turn on you faster than you can react.” She however remained brave and steadfast for Thanh and did not show her growing anger. The sky was beginning to darken when Thanh spotted something. A white speck, distant but definitely on the horizon, emerged from the marsh. As soon as it was confirmed to be a boat Thanh bolted upright in the bucket seat. “Pa-Pee!!” she exclaimed as she then immediately began an attempt to leave the vehicle. She was driven to meet the warm embrace of her father.
Robert, as he plodded his way across the roughness of the stormy May River, eventually was able to distinguish Deb’s car from the others parked along the public dock. It was growing dark but the golden Blazer was impossible to miss. He quickly realized his unfortunately long day on the river had caused his family concern. It was uncommon for Deb to be waiting for him. Robert understood they must have been worried about him out in the weather. Instinctively his heart turned to Thanh. He rolled the throttle so it was fully open, the engine strained under the command. Thanh, from about one hundred yards out, saw the bow of the boat pop up in response to the command and recognized it as his push for home. She lept from the warm car and sprinted down the wet dock. Deb smiled with a full heart as she ran towards Robert’s boat. It reminded her of so many years gone by.
The storm had calmed and only a light drizzle fell as Thanh sprinted down the dock. She reached her father’s destination before the boat was able to come along side the dock. “Pa-pee! Pa-Pee!” she cried, jumping up and down at the cleat intended for her pa-pee’s front line. He saw the scene unfold from out on the river and his heart crept to the top of his throat. “My goodness” he exclaimed aloud “what sort of love is this?” He ably lassoed a cleat and almost tripped on the slick fiberglass to get to Thanh. She jumped into his arms “love you pa-pee, love you” she exclaimed. The old solider’s heart melted with her embrace. “Love you too puppy.” He embraced his little girl and left his work loosely tied to the dock, his main priority firmly planted in his arms. She nestled her face under his chin “love you pa-pee” she said. The old solider never knew what hit him. “Love you too baby girl, love you too.”
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