“It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.”
This is my annual Father’s Day post. It brings back a rush of memories every time I read it. My dad was one of a kind in the best of all possible ways.
I have so many memories of growing up, of family trips and my dad trying to whack at us from the front seat and never succeeding, of playing whist in the kitchen, my mom and me against my dad and brother, of Sunday rides, of going to the drive-in and the beach and of being loved by my dad. Memories of my dad are with me always, but today my memories are all of my dad, and my heart is filled to the brim with missing him, but when I close my eyes, I see him so clearly.
It’s a warm day so he’d be sitting on the front steps with his coffee cup beside him while reading the paper. He’d have on a white t-shirt and maybe his blue shorts. He’d wave at the neighbors going by in their cars. They all knew him and would honk back. He loved being retired, and we were glad he had a few years of just enjoying life.
He was the funniest guy, mostly on purpose but lots of times by happenstance. We used to have Dad stories, all those times when we roared and he had no idea why. He used to laugh along with us and ask, “What did I say? What did I say?” We were usually laughing too hard to tell him. He was a good sport about it.
I know you’ve heard this before, but it is one of my favorite Dad stories. He, my mom and I were in Portugal. I was driving. My dad was beside me. On the road, we had passed many piggyback tandem trucks, all hauling several truck loads behind them. On the back of the last truck was always the sign Vehiculo Longo. We came out of a gas station behind one of those. My father nonchalantly noted, “That guy Longo owns a lot of trucks.” I was laughing so hard I could barely drive and my mother, in the back seat, was doubled over in laughter.
My father wasn’t at all handy around the house. Putting up outside lights once, he gave himself a shock which knocked him off his step-ladder. He once sawed himself out of a tree by sitting on the wrong end of the limb. The bookcase he built in the cellar had two shelves, one on the floor and the other too high to use. He said it was lack of wood. When painting the house once, the ladder started to slide, but he stayed on his rung anyway with brush in hand. The stroke of the paint on the house followed the path of his fall. Lots of times he set his shoe or pant leg on fire when he was barbecuing. He was a big believer in lots of charcoal lighter fluid.
My father loved games, mostly cards. We played cribbage all the time, and I loved making fun of his loses, especially if I skunked him. When he won, it was superb playing. When I won, it was luck. I remember so many nights of all of us crowded the kitchen table playing cards, especially hi-lo jack. He loved to win and we loved lording it over him when he lost.
My father was a most successful businessman. He was hired to turn a company around and he did. He was personable and funny and remembered everyone’s names. Nobody turned him down.
My father always went out Sunday mornings for the paper and for donuts. He never remembered what kind of donut I like. His favorite was plain. He’d make Sunday breakfast when I visited: bacon, eggs and toast. I can still see him standing over the stove with a dish towel over his shoulders. He always put me in charge of the toast.
If I ever needed anything, I knew I could call my father. He was generous. When we went out to eat, he always wanted to pay and was indignant when we one upped him by setting it up ahead of time that one of us paid. One Christmas he gave us all $500.00, not as a gift but to buy gifts.
My father left us when he was far too young. It was sudden. He had a heart attack. I had spoken with him just the day before. It was pouring that day, and I told him how my dog Shauna was soaked. He loved that dog and told me to wipe his baby off. I still remember that whole conversation.
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keepthecoffeecoming.blog 
June 15, 2014 at 10:50 am
I wish this song was around when my Dad was still alive.
I would of sang it to him..HaHa
June 15, 2014 at 11:04 am
morpfy,
This is such fun song. I can imagine little kids thinking they were doing such wonderful things of their father!
June 15, 2014 at 11:09 am
I’ve told my work friends the Vehiculo longo story and we all laughed so much, I still do every time You write about it 🙂
I think Fathers day is in October here, not sure I’ve never had the chance to celebrate it.
Have a great day!
Christer.
June 15, 2014 at 11:17 am
Christer,
I told this story at my Dad’s funeral. My sitters had asked me to tell favorite stories and I told a few, but the vehiculo one made the whole church laugh. My uncle told me it was the first time he both laughed and cried at a funeral.
June 15, 2014 at 12:07 pm
Hi Kat,
My father had a wicked talent for story-telling. He told funny stories about the war. I called them McHale’s Navy stories because they were about funny (and probably not quite legal) things he got involved in like the side business he started after liberating a coil of heavy duty wire from somewhere. It occurred to him that officers never had enough coat hangers so he pounded three nails in a board and used the wire to make some. He traded them for liquor and nylon stockings. Eventually he had three other soldiers working for him. He could have been the coat hanger king.
Or so the story goes. 🙂
He had a collection of silent films that he liked to show and narrate. My favorite was SOS Iceburg just because my father had a narrative for that one which really good. My dad, Uncle Jess and our dog Duke were rescuing my mother off an iceberg that was about to overturn. We would laugh and say “Yeah, Dad. Sure.” But we kind of wanted to believe it just a little bit.
I have the movie on DVD. It’s an awful movie but I can still hear my Dad’s narration when I watch it.
Enjoy the memories.
June 15, 2014 at 12:23 pm
Hi Caryn,
I laughed at your McHale’s Navy stories rite but that was exactly what happened. Your dad was so clever in trading what he made for what he wanted. An entrepreneur!
Dads didn’t realize what wonderful memories they made for us. That movie and his narration will always be a huge part of your memories of him. They made us laugh-what a great gift!
Have a great day remembering your dad!
June 15, 2014 at 5:12 pm
I send best wishes to the KTCC family who have the privilege of being a Dad, could share the day with their Father, or are looking back with fondness to those that have left us.
Some of our gang including the Prince went out to breakfast, FaceTime brought me my son in Orlando and my daughter who is under the weather. Maggie the Westie gave me the new Jack White CD, the Prince some peanuts for my football and Mrs MDH attempted to improve my wardrobe.
It was a good day. Treasure your children, the memories and be thankful for the moments .
June 15, 2014 at 9:01 pm
My Dear Hedley,
Today I thought about my father. I remember all those cribbage games and how much he loved to laugh.
You did well for Father’s Day. Going out to breakfast is always treat. I saw the picture on Facebook of the whole gang.
I hold close the memories I have of my parents. They were amazing people.
June 17, 2014 at 11:02 am
Thanks for your story about your dad. My dad died far to young ( I was 27). We had had a fight, and I left for a mini-vacation that I had planned. At the cabins, where I was staying, up in Northern California, I received a knock on my door saying there was an emergency phone call in the main room for me– I thought it was my friend telling me be couldn’t me me at the resort.
It was my sister, and all she said was ” Dad died”. I don’t remember the next hour. I know I had been calling him every day and the last thing I said to him was that I was sorry I was angry with him and that I loved him.
He tried to give us the best of everything during his life–which was a difficult one. It has been only during the past ten years that I began to understand his last years, and understand his pain.
He died on June 15th, and the funeral was on Father’s Day.
I love you dad– and miss you.
Waving,
Lori, the ghosts of my past and present ( and of course the crew).
June 17, 2014 at 11:29 am
Lori,
I’m glad you got the chance to tell your dad you loved him. When my dad died suddenly, I was out so my sisters called my friend who was here at the house when I got home. I didn’t believe it as my dad and I had just spoken the day before he died.
My dad too tried to give us the best. I was lucky that as an adult I got to go to Europe several times with my parents. They are wonderful memories.
Waving back,
The Cape Cod contingent!