Whenever I see our poinsettias colouring-up at this time of year, I always think of Dad.
Sure, I have good memories of Dad wandering through the greenhouses with Mom and inspecting the poinsettia crop, but it’s more than that. You see, Dad had a different perspective on poinsettias than the rest of the family – literally. He was colourblind.
Like most colourblind people, Dad was green/red colourblind which meant that, to him, both green and red coloured objects looked a little bit grey. Outside of the colourblindness, his vision was sharp – better than mine – but let’s just say that soliciting his opinion on the colour nuances of a new, red poinsettia variety wasn’t all that productive!
Dad never seemed to worry about being colourblind, but when it came to ordering specific, colourful, ornamental flower varieties, Dad always relied on Mom to make the decision on which seed or cuttings to buy.
Dad loved nothing better than a good joke, even at his own expense. I remember fiddling with a Rubik’s cube for the first time and saying to him, "Man, this is tough". To which Dad responded, "Well…tough for you".