Magic of the Mathematical Variety

Sunday, Father’s Day, 2024.

When I think about my Dad I recall many of the wonderful things he could do. I remember the very first time I saw my parents dancing together. It was in the kitchen on Sunset and a Glen Miller classic was playing on CFRB. It was a magical moment and I tried to keep quiet so I wouldn’t miss a step. Dad was a tall, handsome guy. I didn’t expect to see such tenderness and grace coming from the fellow who was built for sports, and almost singlehandedly built the house we lived in. I don’t remember what they were wearing or the time of day, for that matter. I’d only seen people dance like that in movies. I certainly didn’t understand what I was feeling as I watched them maneuver around the kitchen table and chairs. Ours wasn’t a big kitchen but they made it look like a ballroom. As soon as they saw me, they stopped. Mom probably went back to cooking and Dad likely headed to his workbench in the basement. We didn’t often see those little displays of affection, especially with a house full of kids hanging about.

Dad was the king of building stuff. When I was in kindergarten I remember coming home to a magnificent sight in our backyard. Dad had built a “swing” for us. My younger brother and I assumed we were the us and laid claim to it as our own. We spent many hours taking turns “giving a push” or hanging on for fear of going right over the top bar. When I look at the picture of Mike D and I on that swing, I am reminded of the guy who built that for us. Dad and his siblings didn’t have a lot as kids new to Canada in the 1930s. They came here for a better life. Toys and playthings weren’t in the budget. As youngsters we didn’t know about the hardships of being an immigrant kid who arrived in this country during the depression. From the first moment Mike D and I went “up in the air so blue” we knew we had it good. But it wasn’t just about the swing or of the kitchen dancing. Dad was a math-magician. Unfortunately, math-magic isn’t genetic and much to his dismay he managed to father seven children who were challenged by “their ga-zinties”, as in how many times does four ga-zinty eight (how Dad and his brother referred to long division). It was our good fortune to have a person who could help us wade through maze of division, multiplication, addition and subtraction— the ga-zinties. When I was about nine I asked for help with an arithmetic problem about area and volume. His explanation made the solution seem so simple. When I was much older I, again, asked for help with geometry and then with algebra. His answers were always logical and simple. Dad showed all of us how to use a slide ruler. He taught us that geometry wasn’t an exact science because he could cut a pie into nine pieces and he’d still get the biggest slice.

Today I will remember my Dad as the guy who could put “one more” patch on an inner tube and the guy who told us not to throw bent nails away. Apparently having a cement basement floor and a hammer was the cure for those bent nails and boredom. Because of Dad, most of us kids knew how to jump start the Rolls-Can-Hardly. We also knew how to remove the distributor cap, dry it off and put it back on so he could finish his breakfast coffee and get to work on time. We all knew how to change a fuse and replace the plug on a small appliance. We knew what a Phillips and a Robertson were. We understood how television tubes worked and how to replace a blown one. When Mom decided the Durning Family needed to get onboard with the neighbourhood patio trend several of us kids were given lessons on mixing concrete and building forms. Most of us could read a blueprint. When it came to framing, we all knew the difference between a King Stud and a Top Cripple and between a Sill and Header. My Dad loved fancy cars (his Chevies, the Parisienne, the Boo). Next to Ella Fitzgerald, Carly Simon held a place in his heart. The Eagles were right up there with his love of ice cream, meatloaf and Meatloaf. He loved poetry, travelling, “cooks’ tours”, Christmas trees and his family.

As Dads go, the Durning kids had it pretty good. I miss him and his mathmagic.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca