An open Letter to my dad...
6-15-08

It’s been almost three years since I lost my dad. Like many in our area losing any parent or loved one is tough stuff. Especially tough around holidays, even faux holidays such as dad’s day. These ‘Hallmark’ holidays developed to give retailers an excuse to hit us with more sales and the need to spend more money to feel complete. Dad’s day the quiet secondary holiday to that which we celebrate each June has come and gone, hope yours was a good one. When I think of dad, there’s a lot to remember and much to describe. So I’ll get to it. Hopefully some day my kids can say a few of these things about their old man.

What do I remember about my dad? Here’s a short list. Having a catch in the back yard, dad joining in and playing stick ball with me and my friends. Wrestling in the ocean down the shore, watching him get emotional with old war buddies, watching him dress as Santa and try and surprise my brothers and me on Christmas Eve. You can’t mention my dad without mentioning food. Some of my most fond ( add funny and delicious ) memories of dad revolve around food.

I remember when mom went into the hospital for some routine stuff. Mom and lots of folks from her generation tell me way back hospitals kept you overnight for almost anything. Extended stays weren’t uncommon. In today’s drive through health care world that’s not the case. Dad had run of the household while mom sits recovering nicely at Philly’s Nazareth Hospital. One of his many duties was packing school lunches for yours truly. Have you ever seen those school bags with wheels? I needed one of those to carry my lunch. I told my father I was coming home at the end of the day but no matter, I had lunch for several packed tightly. My lunch caught a lot of attention and time for sharing an abundance of food with teachers and fellow classmates at Our Lady of Ransom. Later in life dad would delight me again only this time at his expense. Dad loved hot dogs. Never met one he didn’t love. Once out with mom dad ordered two foot long loaded Texas style wieners. All the trimmings piled high. He complained the entire drive home not because he ate too much but because he felt there was something wrong with the hot dogs. The hot dogs were fine dad endearing to us all just got carried away. Far from a glutton and the furthest thing from fat, dad, the ultimate big kid, just couldn’t resist. He was clinching his stomach from eating too much, we all were grabbing out stomachs from a bought of hard laughter. When dad cooked, you came hungry and loved every bite. I found out after he passed that his culinary skills were developed in the Army where he aced a course in several areas of cooking before going off to fight in World War Two ( he never told us about this award we found out posthumously ).

Dads like mine weren’t afraid to show you their genuineness. Whether it meant downing 2 loaded hot dogs, dressing up as Santa, making a fool of himself at our parish carnival ( in the dunk tank ) or dancing the mummer’s strut at his former place of employ, the no longer Philadelphia Naval Shipyard for a worker’s picnic, dad was always making you smile. Dad was a proud graduate of the school of hard knocks, but what he lacked in academic credentials he more than made up for in work ethic, a gift for being a skilled laborer, killer cook, loveable and affable giant of a guy who no one could resist. Like many in his generation he didn’t see a college degree but he made sure all three of his sons got theirs. Like many in his generation he didn’t get the head start he gave his kids but that’s what made dads not unlike yours and mine so outstanding. Giving to others is like breathing for the rest of us. It just comes naturally. Until the day Alzheimer’s took him from us and then until the day he died physically, dad was just someone that anchored our family. I remember we asked dad what he wanted on many a Father’s Day. He’d look at us above his glasses smiling, laughing, saying ‘You’re kidding right?!’ Dad thought the whole idea of dad’s day was an absolute joke. By that he meant that a fuss being made was laughable. He’d want the same thing every year, the same thing he wanted every day. Time with us around the dinner table or just hanging out. We’d still get him something, he’d enjoy it. He also was most pleased when he helped me and my brothers on hundreds of household projects around our homes.

The most important thing a father can give a child dad give to my brothers and I. The values of hard work, integrity, to stand tall in the face of adversity, civic duty and community service these and much more were things I looked up to and learned from dad. Am I the dad to my kids my dad was for me? Verdict is still out. I think of dad always. Dad’s day just one more occasion to mark what he taught me, how he made me laugh and how he got me and my brothers to where we are today. If you are one of the lucky people who still has dad around hope you treated him well last Sunday. For all the dad’s and grand dads out there a belated Happy Dad’s Day. See ‘ya around town.