My father’s day
The thing about parents is we never forget them, whether we knew them or not. hile they are alive, most of us fight with them or silently resent them. e adore them as babies, but we don’t re member the adoration as we grow up and become more conscious of them. 8nless they are out all the time as my mother was because she was a working single mother. At that time the term single mother was not in fashion yet. My mother was widowed when she was 22 and I was orphaned when I was si months old. My mother worked as a secretary dur ing the day and a profes sor at night. She hardly ever came home before p.m.
This daily absence ac tually built my affection for my mother. The per son who took her place was my grandmother who taught me to sew, to cook and filled my ears with laments over my moth er’s absence. I was the ball they passed on to each other daily. Sometimes I was dropped, sometimes slightly battered, but it was a life anyway. hen I think back, I had a wonderful childhood anyway.
And I adored my mother. Slept ne t to her al most every night until I hit or 2 when I had my own bed divided from her by two matching dress ers placed back to back. As I was growing up, my mother and I never fought, not even when I was a teenager. Our “fighting” happened most seriously at the end of her life when she got Al heimer’s disease and conseTuently hated me.
My father died when I was si months old. The -apanese took my grandfather, my father, my uncle, the cook, gardeners, and drivers all the men in our family in one fell swoop and shot them at the Masonic Temple a few blocks down from the house. They never returned. I recruited a surrogate dad. I called him Daddy Toot. e adored me until I became a teenager then he was Mealous of the boys who came to visit. e died when I was . That broke my heart.
ut what do I think of my own father, the one I never knew These days and I am nudging there are four pictures on my desk. One of my father, 9ladimir *on ale , wearing a straw hat. e must have been 22 years old. It’s the only solo shot of him that has survived. There’s a double frame, one side has me at around five months in the arms of my mother and the other one in the arms of my father. Then there’s the picture of Daddy Toot in his office.
I am and my father has been dead for as many years. e is still a compelling mystery to me. I love him, that I know. Strangely enough I miss him even if I have no personal knowledge of him. I wonder what did he smell like I know what Daddy Toot smelled like. Once I dreamt of being lost in an office, opening and closing doors, then I opened a door and saw my Daddy Toot and he embraced me. I inhaled his fragrance. It stayed with me for a whole week. ut what did my Pappy that’s how my mother referred to him smell like I don’t know.
I only know he was tall (6’2”) and handsome, they say. The people who knew him or look at his photographs say I look like him. es, I do down to the dimples but he did not give me his cleft chin. e was supposed to have one. I guess he was saving that for my brother but he, my Pappy, died too early. So I have no brothers or sisters.
ut as I grow older, I know I am a *on ale , the only daughter of 9lady, that’s what they called him, who inherited all the maverick traits of his branch of the family. is par ents died young and that gave their children every reason to turn maverick. e laugh out loud. e have many husbands, wives and children, without regard for legitimacy or illegitimacy. e love them all. e are not Mudgmental. And I will never forget the breakfast I went to once where on the buffet table ne t to the coffee and tea were bottles of scotch, brandy, gin and vodka.
My father’s birthday was last Saturday, May . If he lived he would have been . e would never have lived that long. In his generation, the *on ale men all died when they were around 6 . arly death is a *on ale trait and I genuinely hope I will have that.
So Pappy, sorry I was too busy last Saturday to light a candle to your birthday. ut here’s the gift. My son *ino is a musician and he attributes that to you. ou played the trombone when you were young. ou passed on your talent. And you know my grandson called Mikel 9ladimir e looks like you and is as tall as you. ou live still within all of us.
3 PP
My father is still a compelling mystery to me. I love him, that I know. Strangely enough I miss him even if I have no personal knowledge of him.