Father's Day is one of those sentimental occasions that prompt adults to reflect on the special men in their lives. On this Father's Day we thought we'd post a few words that Wyatt Cooper wrote about his son Anderson and then a few that Anderson Cooper wrote about his father Wyatt.
From Families by Wyatt Cooper:
Anderson can still without embarrassment run and jump into my arms, throw his arms tightly around my neck and squeeze with loving abandon. He can crawl into my lap, curl up like a puppy, and fall asleep against me. Tomorrow, or the day after, or the year after that, he will be a grave young man solemnly shaking hands, keeping his secrets to himself, and expressing his love for me only with a quick and laughing eye or with an impulsive seizing of my hand.
Anderson is a freckle-faced Huck Finn, fun-loving, witty, clever, quick, energetic, and inventive. He should live in the country, on a farm, with trees to climb, a river to play in, and all sorts of animals. He’s very much an outdoor boy. He passionately loves dogs, mice, rabbits, horses – anything that moves, and the wilder it is, the better. He sat on night watching, Sam, his beloved snake, curling around his hand, marveling that this wild creature actually belonged to him, and he asked it, with wonder in his voice, “Sam, is dis all a dream?”
He is a diligent worker and will accept from himself nothing less than his best. Trying to draw a horse, he will impatiently tear up attempt after attempt because the legs aren’t coming right; he will keep at it until he is satisfied with the result. At five he was given a camera, he turned all his considerable concentration toward learning to use it correctly, and his pictures are more carefully composed that those of many adults. His sly sense of humor it totally his own and somehow wise beyond his years.
From Dispatches From The Edge by Anderson Cooper:
I was eight when my father took my brother and me to Mississippi to see where he was born. We drove out to Quitman, to where their house had been, but found no sign of it, just some faded bricks where the chimney once stood. He'd grown up in a small wooden house on some 250 acres of farm and pasture land. the barns were gone as well, the wood long since rotted. The pasture, the peach orchard, the cotton fields had been reclaimed by trees and underbrush, buried under canyons of kudzu.
My father's name was Wyatt, but in Mississippi, when he was a boy, everybody called him Buddy.
"Buddy, that boy is the spitting image of you," people said when they stopped to talk to us during that visit. It made me happy to hear, though at the time I didn't see the resemblance. Now I look at pictures of myself and I see my father's face.
The day my father died, my life restarted. The person who I was disappeared, washed away by the turn of the tide. From time to time I still catch glimpses of the child I was when my father was alive: swimming through warm water in a crystal blue pool. Playing Marco Polo with my mom and dad. Dissolving into giggles as they get close. My hands reach out, touch their arms underwater. My legs wrap around my father's waist. My mother's hair is pulled back in a bun' my father smiles as I hold him tight. A seashell wind chime gently blows in the breeze. I can hear waves crashing somewhere through the hedges and over the dunes.
Anderson visited Mary Mahoney's in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and reminisces about his first visit there, with his father when he was 8 years old ~
On Larry King's last program on CNN, Anderson had this to say to Larry and shared from a letter his father wrote to Anderson right before he died. "We must go rejoicing in the blessings of this world; chief of which is the mystery, the magic, the majesty and the miracle which is life." Here's the clip ~
And not too long ago Anderson posted some photos of his father to his Instagram account ~
If you still have your father in your life, here's hoping you celebrate him in some way today. If you have lost your father, may you be warmed by fond memories of days gone by.