Father’s Day is rolling around again. It’s one of those time’s each year when I miss my dad who died 16 years ago. It’s also that time when I wish my poor son didn’t have to be the only adult in his relationship with his father. I am glad, though, that my son had my father to help shape the first 10 years of his life. Here are some of my (and my son’s) memories of my Dad and his Grandpa.
- Yes. I was his Pumpkin, his Pumpkin Pie and his Princess….but so were my other two sisters. It didn’t matter, we loved our nicknames.
- For all of his girls, Dad made sure we received a dozen roses on our 16th birthday with a card that said “From Your Secret Admirer.” By the time I turned 16, I knew it was Dad who was giving the roses, but I was still so excited to get mine. Roses were expensive and we knew it and appreciated our Dad even more for the lovely gift.
- My father was a Chef and could make any meal delicious. He also spoiled us by making us our favorite meals. When I was in college and working part-time, he would call me before I left work to find out what I wanted for dinner and by the time I got home, Chicken Cordon Bleu or some other wonderful creation would be waiting for me. When my parents took care of my son, I would pick him up after work and they would ask if I wanted to eat with them and always (and I mean always) tell me the meal was meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy with green beans. I was so sick of that meal and asked my Dad why he didn’t cook any of the wonderful meals I remembered from growing up. He looked at me seriously and said, “It’s what your son wanted for dinner.” Yes, my son’s desires had moved ahead of mine as far as my father was concerned.
- Bread. Fresh made bread. Oh, how I loved the aroma of his bread baking in the oven. Hot butter melting on a fresh slice of bread? The best!
- Fried chicken. My Dad made the best fried chicken and I’ve never been able to duplicate his recipe. And my Dad’s fried chicken is forever tied in my memories to the Catskill Game Farm. (5 points if you’ve been there and 10 if you can sing the jingle.) Once a summer, he would pack the kids in the car and a picnic lunch in the trunk, a picnic lunch that he got up before 5am to make for us. I don’t know whether I liked the animals or the fried chicken better!
- When my father was 69, he ended up in a wheelchair for the last 10 years of his life. My son, who saw Grandpa as a playmate would beg him to go upstairs to his playroom at his Grandparents house. He stood at the top of the stairs and called to his Grandpa to come and play and when Grandpa said he couldn’t because he couldn’t get up the stairs anymore, my son stood at the top and encouraged him calling “You Can do It Grandpa.” That was all it took for my father to crawl out of the wheelchair, sit on the stairs and then push himself up one stair at a time. This phrase also got my son to go see sailboats when Grandpa was too tired to drive the thirty minutes to the coast and to all the miniature golf courses around the state so my son could play with his Grandma.
- Thanksgiving dinners. My father put on Thanksgiving before and after he ended up in a wheelchair. Our family loved these meals. I swear the best turkey I ever had came from my father (don’t tell my husband I said that!) His last act of love for us was to talk my nephew and brother through making the meal the way that he would. He died two weeks later. I still miss him.
Thanks for indulging me by reading our memories of my father. He was a smart man, who took a class whenever he wanted to learn something new. Need to draw up blueprints for the house he wanted to build? Took a class. Wanted to know more about politics? Took a class. And when computers were starting to become big, and he wanted to know how to use them? He took a class. My father was a Renaissance Man who could build a house, loved the Opera, played soccer in High School, worked in factories and in restaurants, could make the most delicate flowers out of buttercream when he was decorating a cake and then go dig the stones out of the ground in order to add to his garden. (And yes, my laptop got wet in the making of this post.)
I’d love to hear your memories of your Dad.
And for Catskill Game Farm lovers out there, you can go back and walk the abandoned park or sign up to take a class on photographing abandoned places.
Thanks for sharing an insight into your dad. I loved the fact that he had the same nicknames for the three of you. My dad loved to call me “Baldie” – why? Dear knows, since I was born with a crop of red curly hair which my mother loved and I hated!
I guess we always hate the hair we are given. I would have loved red hair and curls!
Jennifer, Your father sounds like such a sweet man. Those dozen roses got to me. Really lovely.
He really was a sweet man. When I was a teenager, I was a tomboy, but I still wanted those roses and he knew it.
OMG…I love the fact that your dad would scoot down the stairs to play with your son….how heart warming!!
Jodie
Your dad sounds like a man’s man! Handy in the kitchen and always making sure his daughter and grandson were smiling. Wish more dads emulated this kind of parenting!
Yes, I think you are emulating him, even though you never met him.
He does sound absolutely wonderful. You are a lucky daughter to have that role model … the roses…sigh
He was such a sweet man who loved his daughters (and his sons, but they didn’t get roses.)
Sweet post! A very special relationship you’ve highlighted well. Happy Fathers Day!
Thank you. It was a special relationship.
I love these memories of your dad. He must have been so special. I love that he got the grandpa experiences. I am very close with my dad. He is amazing. My favorite memories are him taking me to the candy store when I was little and getting me a malted. He is a really good grandpa too!
Good dad’s are the best and not everyone is lucky enough to get one.
My memories of my dad is that he was constantly smiling – I don’t think I ever saw him upset – I was with him when he died in February and even then he died with a smile on his face and a cat curled upon the end of his bed. My dad had a real zest for life and was a fun dad – he always had time for me and my sister, passing on his love of music & life – and he loved being a grandad to my 5 children. Unfortunately his life took a deteriorating turn when he was diagnosed as having dementia at the age of 62 … he was “fine” for a number of years then he gradually lost his memory, forgot how to talk, eat, walk … dying 12 years later of pneumonia…he never forgot how to smile. He was a lovely charming man.
What a wonderful memory of your dad. It’s so sad that dementia crept in so early in his life.
What wonderful memories! Thank you so much for sharing a glimpse into the heart and character of the man who helped shape you into the kind.loving, creative woman that you are.
Thank you for saying those kind words.
This is so beautiful. Your dad sounds wonderful. He clearly had a very special relationship with your son too. For some reason, the climbing the stairs to play with your son reminds me of my only memory of my maternal grandfather. He died when I was very young – about 3 or 4. He had lost an eye in the war, and wore a glass eye or eye patch. My one memory of him is of persuading him to play catch with me up and down our stairs with my stuffed penguin. He was winning because he was obviously more co-ordinated than me. I was at the top of the stairs, and he was at the bottom. Then my mum came into the bottom corridor carrying my little sister, and my grandad turned a bit to see them. So, in a very sportsmanly manner, I exploited his blind spot and launched the penguin where he was unable to see it. And then declared myself the winner.
That is such a wonderful memory! And it’s so perfectly Lucy.