My father has now rejoined my mother. I guess he felt that 2 years apart was enough, especially after 67 years of marriage. He died on June 6, which is also the anniversary of his mother's death.
Dad was Superman, and always the handsomest man in the room. He definitely was my hero when I was growing up. It seemed like he could do anything. I especially loved watching him with Mom. I loved seeing them getting all "gussied up" to go out, and every Saturday afternoon, after he got home from work & had lunch, they would go into their room & close the door. It was understood that we were NOT to go in there unless there was blood or death! Mom later confessed to me that sometimes they'd just nap, or just talk...but that's romantic, too. I also remember every Labor Day weekend the 2 of them would take off...just the 2 of them.
He was very much a "hands-on" father. I remember so many things:
One summer (it was 1973), he took us ALL for a week at the beach. I remember one day, the weather wasn't great. One thing I did to keep busy was wrote myself a schedule. I ended it with "Bedtime". The next time I saw that list, there was a line added to the bottom; it was 1/2-hour earlier than my bedtime, and was labeled "Bad Time". It was in his handwriting.
I guess I might have been a bit of a brat when my younger brother arrived, just weeks before my 8th birthday. I was the "baby" for so long. Dad decided to remedy that. Saturday evenings he would take me - JUST me - out for pizza and bowling. We would have so much fun. We stopped after a while. Our family had a tradition that graduation from Junior High was followed with a special day, doing whatever the graduate wanted. My choice: pizza and bowling with Dad, one more time.
One of my household chores was sweeping the cellar stairs. The stairs were wooden, with a rectangle of carpeting in the middle. There was about an inch between the carpeting and the vertical part of the step that always was full of dust & dirt. Anyway, Dad told me that, if I found any change in that dirt, I could keep it. I usually found pennies, but occasionally I'd find nickles & dimes, or the rare quarter. It was many years later that I figured that he probably "seeded" the steps.
One time I had an assignment for music class. I had to research a music-based job other than singer or musician. I asked Dad to take me to the library so that I could research. Instead, he took me to the local radio station and let me interview an actual disc jockey!
When I was taking Driver's Ed, Dad would let me drive home. He'd give me directions: turn here, turn there. Normally, at one point he'd tell me that I needed to practice my parking, so he'd direct me to a parking lot, and I'd park the car. He would then look at the sign that said "Haywards Ice Cream" and say, "Well, look where we are! Since we're here..." and we'd have ice cream.
He had a very distinctive way of diving into a swimming pool. He'd get up on the diving board, looking for all the world like a great (amateur) diver. He'd bounce a few times, then take one BIG bounce...then he'd land on his butt on the board, bounce off, and PLOP into the water. That never failed to make me laugh.
He had a great sense of humor, but sometimes it was a little odd. My favorite joke of his was, "When I die, if I could come back as something, I'd want to be a flower...so I could be a rein-carnation." Anyway, one Christmas Dad decided to take our big light-up Santa, that usually stood on our porch, and put him on the roof. My younger brother & I were watching TV, when suddenly we saw him fall down past the living room window to the ground. We ran into the kitchen as he was coming in, holding his arm (which wasn't pretty...that's all I'll say). Mom was getting ready to take him to the hospital. I saw some red on his coat collar, and started to laugh. My brother picked up on it, then Dad did. We were all laughing. Mom was upset & asked us what was so funny. Dad calmly said, "What did you do before I took Santa out there?" She answered, "I touched up Santa." He asked, "What did you use?" She answered, "Lipstick." She still didn't get the joke, but the 3 of us thought that Dad with lipstick on his collar from Santa was hilarious. (Maybe you had to be there...but it still makes me laugh.)
Another injury joke. (I apologize if I get any details wrong about this; it's not my story, but I loved hearing it.) Dad injured his hand at work. He lost part of one finger and needed a skin graph. Unfortunately, the hospital was pretty full, so they put him in the maternity ward. After his skin surgery, he looked up at Mom, smiled, and said, "It's a girl!"
I'll admit that, as much as I love him, he easily intimidated me...even as an adult. One day my husband & I were visiting Dad & Mom. I was talking to Mom in her room; my husband was watching the NASCAR race with Dad. My husband let me know when it was getting near the end of the race. It was one of the closest finishes up to that point. At the checkered flat, Dad said, "[Jeff] Gordon's got it." I said, "No! It was [Kevin] Harvick! His first win!" I then clapped my hand over my mouth. Almost 37 years old, and still afraid of contradicting my father! He only laughed (especially after the commentators confirmed that I was right).
He loved being a grandfather, and our girls loved their Pepere. So many times I remember going to visit, and both girls would climb up on his big ol' chair with him. He told me once that, whenever he needed to buy a new easy chair, he always made sure to buy a super-strong one, for just that purpose.
As much as I love him, talking to him was not so easy for me. However, there was a period of a few years before he had his strokes when suddenly conversation became so nice and easy. I'm thankful that, during that easy time, I was able to tell him "Thank you" for some of the above instances.
Again, thank you, Daddy...and I will always love you.
