Today would have been.....

.... My Dad's 99th Birthday.

This is one of the best pictures I have of my Dad, Vincent, and I, taken after my college graduation ceremony.  It was rare that he looked so happy and relaxed in a photograph.  My Dad was normally watching the "photographer" carefully, making sure they were holding the camera properly, had the flash on, etc. and would end up with an anxious look on his face.

My Dad really enjoyed his birthday.  He liked a good steak or pork chops for his celebratory dinner, always with potatoes, and preferred lemon cream pie to cake. Gifting him with a new tie was always a safe bet, and he acquired a large collection of them over the years, which hung on the inside of his closet door.  I always loved it when he'd let me choose one for him to wear.

My Dad had often talked of wanting to live to be 70, but he only made it to 69 1/2 before collapsing in my Mother's arms one exceptionally warm December day in 1982.  Not achieving that milestone, and knowing how very much it meant to him, made his loss that day even more painful.

My Dad was born and raised in Brooklyn. He was 13 years younger than his sister.  His mother had given birth to four children in between them, but none survived past the age of two.  As a result, I think my grandmother spoiled my Dad a bit, watching him carefully, feeding him lots of rich foods, anxious not to lose another child.

There was a cute story about one time when his mother was sitting on the windowsill of their apartment, located in a four story apartment building opposite the elevated train.  As she was washing the windows, she looked down and noticed my father, then about five years old, walking down the street.  Stunned to see her little boy out of school, she shouted down to him to stay right where he was - she was coming down!

Upon questioning Vincent, my grandmother discovered that his teacher had given him some money and sent him on an errand to the local shop.  I think her response to that answer was along the lines of "we'll see about that" as she firmly took him by the hand, marching him quickly back to the school.  Upon arrival, she found his classroom and confronted the teacher. She told her in no uncertain terms that Vincent would not be going out on such missions again.  She informed the teacher that she did not walk her child to and from school every day to make sure he was safe crossing the streets only to have her send him out alone.  I can just imagine the look on the face of that teacher!

Growing up during the Depression, my grandmother urged my father to find a secure job and stay there.  Permanently.  He obviously took all her advice to heart, because he worked for the Book-of-the-Month Club for 48 years, starting in the shipping department and working his way up to an executive position. He retired just a month before I gave birth to my first daughter.  Giving my Dad a granddaughter was probably the best thing I ever gave him.  He simply adored her.  How I wish he could have seen all my girls grow up.

It is from my Dad that I get my love of books.  My Dad used to sit on the front stoop of his building, reading anything he could get his hands on while the kids on the block would play stick ball. You know how when you are little you think your Dad knows just about everything?  Mine certainly did, as a result of all those years of reading.  No matter what subject you brought up, he would know a little something about it.  And if he didn't?  He wouldn't rest until he found a book on it for you.

They say you either marry someone just like your father, or the exact opposite.  I'm pleased to say that the Englishman has many of the same wonderful qualities that I loved in my Dad.  He is loving, loyal, strong, tender, supportive, honest, hard working and very adept with power tools.  During one of the last conversations my Dad and I had, when he was at my house a few weeks before he died, was one in which he summed up how he felt about where I was at that time in my life.  He said, "I don't know how you fell in to all of this, but I'm awfully glad you did."

I am too, Dad.  I am too! 

Miss you....