Tuesday, June 16, 2020
Our wonderful father was born in 1934, and like our mom a Depression baby. The Second World War took place during his very formative years, and disposed my dad to a lifelong habit of taking care of everyone and everything within his power. He didn’t seek glory or power or lavish gratitude. Daddy quietly went about the business of doing what he thought was right, instilling that same sensibility into those around him, and leading naturally by example.
He did of course tell an excellent story and enjoyed the limelight while doing so, waving his hands and changing voices for effect! He wasn’t an actor, but he could have been.
My earliest memories are of my father reciting to us before bedtime. He especially loved Rudyard Kipling and Robert Service. He’d recite “If,” carefully emphasizing “And – which is more – you’ll be a man, my Son!,” preparing us for life ahead. (If my dad ever wanted sons rather than daughters, Bin and I never knew it). Alternately, he’d regale us with Service’s poems about life in the Yukon, reciting “The Cremation of Sam McGee” and “The Shooting of Dan McGraw” by heart. He admired those authors and tried to entertain and prepare us to be the best people he could, only human weakness failing that, but never disregard of the lesson. We were blessed with tremendous, loving parents, and I cannot imagine life without them.
My dad was the neighborhood dad who would play One, Two, Three, Red Light! and Mother May I? with all the neighborhood kids. We spent many rainy afternoons playing Leiningen and the Ants, fashioned after the movie, where we’d try to grab my dad’s nose while he kept our flailing little bodies at bay with both legs! We never won.
My father had a sense of adventure and never lost sight of what was truly important. When frightened flying reconnaissance missions over the Soviet Union in the early 1960’s, he said he realized what was truly important could never be taken from him, he could never lose his “immortal soul” and found courage and comfort in that thought. He also admonished us never to be sad for him when he was dying, because he would be curious and excited. I hope so.
He also asked us to stuff his body and stand him in the doorway, but we didn’t actually comply with that.
My father is quite simply the best man I have ever known, and I would always want to be like him. There will never be another like him, and the big huge hole in my heart knows that’s true.
I love you, Daddy. We all love you. God bless you.
Claws always lose!
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