kerravonsen | My Father, Francis (Frank) Ian Andersen: 28 July 1925

People often say "She was as sharp as a tack" or "He had a mind like a steel trap". I don't think either of those would fit Dad: a tack is too small, and a steel trap is too rigid. Dad's interests were broad, his knowledge large, his analysis rigorous and insightful. Hey, other people can talk about Frank-the-Scholar; I just want to say what he taught me.

That the Old Testament is not a has-been; it has so much light to shed on the character of God, and there's so much of it.
"The text, and the WHOLE text." You can't just toss out bits because you don't like them or they are hard to understand. Besides which, the whole Bible has unity ANYWAY.
Hebrew POETRY. There's a lot more of it in the Old Testament than people think; linguistically, it is easily detectable because it lacks Prose Particles. And God is a Poet, because most Prophecies are poetry, did you know that?
"The best translation (of the Bible) is the one that you READ."
The Bible is not a textbook; it has different genres in it. A story, but not a fairy-story.

Though, speaking of Fairy Stories, Dad would read them to us for bedtime stories, from Andrew Lang's coloured Fairy Books. He recorded the Narnia stories, The Hobbit, and The Lord of the Rings on reel-to-reel tape for us to listen to. We would watch Star Trek and Doctor Who as a family all together. I remember when Star Trek was playing at noon on Sundays, and we'd discuss and analyse the episode over Sunday lunch. (Hey, analysis makes things more interesting, not less.)

There was a period when Dad was going to the States a lot - we were in Australia, probably in Sydney, at the time. One time he came back from a trip and said "Close your eyes." When I opened them, he was holding a stack of books in front of me. I demurred, wanting to look at them one at a time, not all at once. Then I realised why he had presented them as a stack: it was the ENTIRE SERIES of the Darkover novels by Marian Zimmer Bradley (as they existed at that time, more came out later). Like, WOW. I think that was one of the best surprises Dad ever gave me.

Dad would take his morning coffee in a beer stein; a ceramic in dark brown with a lovely tan-cream edging at the top.

Both Mum and Dad were good cooks: they each had their signature dishes.

We used to make pizza when we lived in the States. Dad made the pizza dough (properly, with yeast and everything). We had a production line in which all the kids had their special job to do: mine was to sprinkle on the grated cheese.

There were also special Easter scrolls, again with proper from-scratch yeast dough, with the spiral of the scroll filled with brown sugar and raisins. Yum. Nothing like it.

And who could ever forget Dad's Christmas fruit cakes? I remember him saying "When the Jacaranda is in bloom, that is when you start making the Christmas cakes." So that there would be enough time before Christmas to wrap them in Sherry-soaked rags and have them drink it up.

More recently it was Dad's soups. Made from real stock boiled down from chicken bones, with bok choi, mushrooms, noodles and/or bean sprouts, and other random veggies. Served in enormous bowls, a meal in itself. Though I admit I never took to Dad's Black Bean Soup.

Like many linguists, he had a love of word-play and puns. His favourite riddle was this:

Q: If I had a newt, why would it be tiny? A: Because it would be my newt (minute).

He had a vast vocabulary. "Nothing prop-inks like propinquity." "Give me an aliquot..."

He would sing snatches of comedic songs and Gilbert & Sullivan musicals: "By a doctor of Divinity, who resides in this vicinity..." Two of his favourite movies: "Singing in the Rain", and "Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines". Music and comedy, see?

There were many sayings that he would use, that I had assumed were Original FIA... because he would assume we were all familiar with what he was quoting from. Indeed, he would often assume that we knew things we didn't -- which, while slightly frustrating, was vastly better than if he had made the patronising assumption that we were ignoramuses. I got used to interrupting his fascinating rambles with questions. (Hey, five kids, me the youngest, you had to interrupt if you were ever to be heard at all. Also, me not patient.)

Because of Covid19, the funeral is restricted to 20 mourners, so we're being all high-tech and doing a YouTube livestream of it. So you can actually watch it, if you would like. Tomorrow, 28th May 2020, at 11AM Australian Eastern Standard Time. It's going to take about 2 hours.

URL: https://youtu.be/nlRgK0EHLHg

(If you are even more curious, here is his Wikipedia page)