My Dad's the One in Bright Orange

In cultures and people all over the world, orange takes on many attributes in clear displays of versatility. Buddhist monks wear orange to symbolize sacrifice and the letting go of worldly possessions. It is the national colour of the Netherlands worn to show patriotic pride. Orange is central to Halloween and the allure of a dark and spooky night. Orange brings warmth to the cooling autumn temperatures and a vibrancy to the shades of colours on full display in the changing foliage. As with any colour, orange also has individual impacts. Orange was a colour that stood out to me sometimes brilliantly and other times with sadness. It was obnoxious and warm, two ideas I felt opposed themselves, making it a confusing combination to wrap my head around. At a time when all I wanted was to blend in, orange seemed too attention seeking and loud; and when I did want to stand out, orange was not the colour coinciding with my bold emotional state. In hindsight, my feelings towards the colour had more to do with whom I attached the colour to. There were times when the colour gave me anxiety and made me feel alone, but as I got older, I realized the colour was only trying to challenge me to see things differently so I could become who it knew I was all along. Orange is now a calm presence; the ability to be goofy because it is fun; and a colour of unwavering love: it is the colour of my dad. I truly believe that orange embodies who my dad is in both a literal and figurative sense, and that has greatly influenced me on my journey to finding myself.

As a child my dad was super fun (he still is but in a different way). He would always be making up games for us to play and telling magical stories of the Pill Family or Nosehario the Nose Hair. He is weird in a way that just makes you laugh until your sides hurt. The amount of energy both of my parents seemed to find chasing all five of us around demands incredible respect as it gave us what every child deserves: a fun and carefree childhood. When I was leaving childhood and entering my preteen years my dad came home beaming with pride at his latest purchase: a bright orange light-weight sun hat. All of us were mortified at first. I remember my insides cringing because I recognized the amount of attention sporting such a look would fetch as it was neither high fashion nor even in fashion at all. At this point in my life I had just started to settle into a new school and adjust to a new environment. I went from a private Christian school into a public school at a confusing time of transition from child to teen. I was working on figuring myself out and a lot of who I was prior to our move was instantly something the kids in my new class made fun of. I felt insecure in my body and insecure with who I was raised to be. On top of that, I was a new student and all of it made me stand out like a sore thumb. Upon seeing my dad’s choice of a bright orange hat, I immediately became anxious because I knew we would see my classmates around town (it is quite a small town with relatively few activities, so when something is happening most people turn up) and was worried that this would be another thing to tease me over. I already felt alienated from everyone and could not understand how that was not something my dad even considered. Why was he not worried about fitting in?

The sun hat was not the first brightly coloured article of clothing he had, but I think of it as the item that set the tone for future purchases. Part of me is convinced he developed such a taking to orange because of the rise it got out of us. All of us would giggle and accuse him of being super embarrassing. Another part of me believes that orange is in his blood. My grandparents immigrated from the Netherlands when they were teenagers and though my dad was not born in the country, he is a Dutch man through and through. Orange is in his DNA. Whatever his reasons are, it has become part of his identity and has slowly taken over his accessories. It is a good demonstration of his consistency. It may be a bit predictable but there is an anxiety-relieving comfort knowing that I can look out amongst a sea of people and spot him easily. Keeping to his new trend, he bought an orange ski jacket for the winter. I remember very distinctly the year that he decided to transition from skiing to snowboarding. I would be going up the chairlift and could easily spot him below, and watch as he seemed steady before catching the edge and then bright orange limbs would flail through the air as he landed in the snow. One time he wanted to try surfing and as I looked out to the sea of wetsuits, there was my dad in his orange hat, standing out. Again, limbs would be waving around before he splashed into the water. For all the times he fell, he would always get back up. He was determined to succeed, and that he did. Now, he is a great snowboarder. It is an important lesson he taught me, always get back up. You might not want to, and it might be the hardest thing you could do, but you will succeed in the end, no matter how many times you need to get up again. I was never very good at getting back up. I was easily discouraged and dependent on external motivation because I struggled to find it within myself.

Throughout most of my teenage years and early adulthood, I was very rigid in my attempt to be what I believed people wanted. I neglected looking internally to see my true colours and instead tried to display so many different ones that in the end I became a muddy brown mess. While I was wading through thick muck, my dad was patient and consistent. He (and my mom) continued to show me love and saw me for who I am and had the patience to wait for me while I journeyed along trying out different colours. I realized (maybe a little later than I should) that my dad’s decision to be orange gained him great respect amongst his peers and a level of happiness most only dream of. Many people have told me that I am a mini version of my dad and as I began to see my dad for who he was working to be, I saw how much I liked that people equated me to him. We are both quite snobby when it comes to coffee, we both appreciate the convenience and practicality of zip-off cargos, we love new adventures, and we would both be a little lost if we did not have my mom to keep us on track. Where we differ is a bit of a sensitive issue. My parents are religious; a path I tried to follow to please them but felt like a fraud. I recognized in so many people in our Christian circle that they were only Christian on Sundays and nearly all the people who have hurt me in life claim to follow Jesus. Christianity has some big questions and holes that I just cannot seem to be able to accept. But this is my personal choice. I greatly admire people who truly commit to their beliefs and lead their lives by faith. It is not an easy feat and my dad is deeply devoted to his beliefs and has consistently been so for as long as I have known him. Religion was something that I wrestled with for a long time, trying to figure out where I stood on the subject and even now some of it still haunts my decision making.

Now in adulthood, my dad and I have re-formed our relationship placing value on laughter and happiness. My parents remain strong advocates of trying new things and not being afraid to chase passions. I can see how his patience has rewarded him and do my best to be patient, though I do not find patience comes to me as easily as he makes it. I also find a lot of joy in his bright orange hat and the consistency the colour has played throughout my preteen and teen years. It will be a conversation topic for many years to come and will be one told to his future grandchildren. My dad has shown me the value of consistency and dedication. He can always be counted on for a laugh, and looks handsome as ever in orange. As for me, I have settled on the colour yellow, maybe as an homage to him or maybe simply because it fills me with happiness and warmth. Two things I hope to convey to others.