My Old Man by wysiwig
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Description
I miss my old man tonite And i wish he was here with me With his corny jokes and his cheap cigars He could look you in the eye and sell you a car. That's not an easy thing to do, But no one ever knew a more charming creature On this earth than my old man....Steve Goodman This is my father, my dad, my old man at age 22 and 79. He was a member of the 'greatest generation' and the kindest man I have ever known. Today would have been his 87th birthday but he couldn't wait around and left us in January 2007. His name was Seymour but everyone called him Sy. He possessed an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and an indomitable sense of humor. Even as he lay dieing he could still make us laugh. My dad was a Bronx boy, New York born and bred but he left home at seventeen so he could go to work and support his widowed mother and two younger brothers. His wanderings brought him to Panama where he went to work for the United States Navy as a civilian employee. He became a technician working on the early development of radar. When technicians needed tools or parts they would fill out a requisition and take it to the parts warehouse on the base. The counterman was a middle-aged black man named Charlie. My father and Charlie would talk about their families and hometowns. Once my father asked him about his education. Charlie told him he had a degree in engineering. If he had a degree in engineering why was he working in the parts department of a warehouse? Charlie looked at my father like he was the dumbest white boy in the world. That was my dad's introduction to racism and he hated it. After the war started, he was a member of a team that was sent to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil to set up a radar station. The Navy picked a date for the installation but, fortunately for my dad, it was the wrong date. The first week nothing was done because everyone was preparing for Carnival. The second week nothing was done because everyone was celebrating Carnival. The third week nothing was done because everyone was recovering from Carnival. The radar station was finally installed during week four. One of his favorite assignments was to take a seaplane to Jamaica to pick up shipments of rum for the officer's club. You could spend a few days in Kinston and, since the seaplane made rough landings on the water, "breakage" of a few bottles was expected before the rum reached the officers. Eventually the draft caught up with him and my dad was welcomed into the loving arms of the United States Sixth Army where he was sent to the Philipines to fight the Japanese. After the Japanese surrendered he became part of the army of occupation. Now my father's tales of his military service almost always contained some humor. Like the time he and some others took old bed sheets, painted red circles on them, and sold them to newly arrived sailors as Japanese battle flags for five dollars each. When he told me the story he added that, if you looked closely, you could see 'Wamsutta' on some of the "flags." Or the time he was halfway through his second helping of dessert, having been invited to dinner by a Japanese family he had befriended, when he thought to ask what was in it. The lady of the house explained that it was a bowl of rice with honey and fried grasshopper. And then my father wasn't hungry anymore. I said my father's stories almost always contained some humor. Every story but one. From February to May 1945 the U.S. Sixth Army pushed the Japanese back from Manila north along Route Nine to the town of San Fernando in the north of Luzon island. It was some of the most brutal fighting of World War II. At one point my father's regiment was dug in facing the Japanese who were hidden in an area of jungle. As night fell my father and a friend of his settled in to wait for the Japanese. They agreed that the friend would take the first watch while my father slept for several hours. He would then be awakened and take his turn. My father woke with the sun in his eyes and, without looking, reached over to tap his friend on the head and ask him why he had not woken him. His hand stopped on what was left of his friend's neck. The head was gone. On a moonless night a Japanese gunner had blindly fired his 25mm cannon into the darkness and hit the man in the head. And missed my father. While he was trying to process what had happened, the Japanese poured out of the jungle in a suicide attack. The medics later told him they found him in his foxhole with his dead friend. He was reflexively pulling the trigger on his empty rifle. They put him in a field hospital where he lay catatonic for a week. When he came out of it the army sent him back to the front lines. My father was a regular guy, which was one of the things I loved about him. He never pretended to be something he wasn't. Once, my parents received a phone call from some old friends. They were in town for a few days and wanted to come over and visit, maybe have dinner together. My mother immediately began organizing the family to quickly clean the house. My dad wanted to know what the big deal was. "I don't want them to think we're slobs", my mother replied. "But...we...we are slobs", he answered. He never complained. He went to work everyday, took care of his wife and three children and helped people when he could. But living in modern America took its toll on him. Shortly before he died I heard a conversation between my stepmother and him. At one point my stepmother asked him why he was so cold hearted. And he replied, "Because every time I've done something nice for someone I got stepped on." My father died because he wanted to. He was used up and heart sick. He just couldn't live in this world anymore. He could always make me feel better and I miss him. And that's why I wrote this, for him. Happy birthday dad.
For the first time since he died Late last night i cried. I wondered when i was gonna do that For my old man.Thank you all for your patience and indulgence while I got this out.
Comments (18)
Faemike55
WOW! To say I'm moved is an understatement. Your dad and mine would have gotten along quite well, I believe! This is a very wonderful and moving tribute, Mark!
bcrathburn
WHAT A WONDERFUL STORY,I NEVER KNEW MY DAD HE DIED WHEN I WAS SIX,AND I THINK I MISSES A LOT,BUT MY MOM DID THE BEST SHE COULD WITH US.YOUR MEMORIES ARE WONDERFUL NEVER LET THEM GO.++5
myrrhluz
Thank you for sharing him with us. I was fascinated and moved as I read your words. In your wonderful tribute you show that you share his intelligence and humor. He lives on in you and your words celebrate his life and your love for him. Blessed memories on his birthday.
JuliSonne
"Stories, the live write" Authentically and emotional!! You carry yours dad in the heart and that are wonderful. Thanks for sharing, Mark
durleybeachbum
Well, Mark, what a wonderful celebration and tribute! Thankyou so much for sharing your memories and love with us.
tennesseecowgirl
I was moved to tears reading your tribute to your father. I lost my father this last April 1st, and I think what has made that easier, if it ever can be is I know I had the greatest dad ever and, and how lucky I was. He loved everyone, and so I can never really get that sad, I just recall a memory of him and there he is with his wonderful smile there to once again lighten my path, and I can see you have those same memories to carry you though those lonelier times. Thanks for sharing this loving birthday tribute with us all especially at this time of year when we all need to remember to be thankful for what is really important. I also loved the story about the rice and grasshopper meal your dad shared with you what a priceless memory. It brought a smile, through the tears. Mark I wish you and your family a happy Thanksgiving..
lucindawind
a wonderful tribute to your father :)
flavia49
A very touching and intense tribute to your father!
psyoshida
I laughed and cried reading your tribute. Your father sounds like a real character and a real hero. I'm so sorry for your loss. I feel like I have met him through your loving tribute and I'm sure I'm not the only one. Can he ever be gone when you remember him so well and share his life and spirit with people like me. We have you as the best tribute to his life.
sandra46
superb work, thanks for sharing these photos and the story, i felt very touched
elfin12u
Sigh.....That was incredibly well written, I think our fathers would've gotten along very well with each other, they seem to have had a great deal in common. Thanks much for the share Mark, that was about the only way I would get the opportunity to learn about him. After all he had been through, I can understand why he might have grown a strong distaste for the way the world has become, and I have to admit that I really agree. My dad has only been gone a year now, life seems so different without him around, and I've been contemplating doing something similar for mine in February........I believe you just helped me with making that decision. Thank you!! I hope you have a great Thanksgiving, There has been so much crap of late, but still so much to be grateful for. Take good care my friend.
goodoleboy
Stellar nostalgic photos and tribute to your "old man," Mark. It makes me think of my past life and mortality.
auntietk
Such a beautifully written tribute. A well-told story, full of love and light.
Sylvia
~Memories of the Heart~ MARVELOUS Tribute... Thanks for sharing!!!
Tea_Rex
Beautiful, Mark! This is the way we do it .. Honor our loved ones by keeping their memory close and celebrating our shared lives. He's smiling, Brother .. and justly proud. Terry
frankie96
So moving...by Dad is 92 and still alive..thankful every day for it..
Rainastorm
This is really, really nice. As I read it, tears came to my eyes, happy ones and sad one. You father sounds like he was a great dad, man and person. I can't say as much for my dad. But very glad to bump into this image and share a part of your life and past with you. Very well wrote, and excellent image of the two ages.
anahata.c
eeyow, this is touching. You've celebrated your father in other places in your gallery, I just never read this one before. As always, you choose specifics perfectly, and you really capture the soul. Mike said his and your dad would've gotten along so well: It's ironic, because his dad is now gone too, and I thought of your dad when I read about his.
You write like you describe your dad to be: Straight forward, without pretense, direct, and very touching. He sounded like a wonderful man. And his gentle heart just couldn't process everything he saw. He was a big man, big heart, deep heart---which one can see from this as well as other uploads of yours. But he didn't digest all he saw...or, if he did, he didn't want to. I can understand such a man finally wanting to leave this world. It couldn't have been easy for you (and your family), but you seem at peace with it here.
He fought in a war that even the soldiers in the European arena didn't fully understand. Some said the Japanese war sounded just ghastly, even compared to the European war. I know one can't 'rank' these things; but everything I've heard about the Japanese battles was just awful. And your father's experience in the foxhole had to be one of those things he could never forget, which haunted him to his last day. I bow to people like your dad. Esp because he remained such a fine man throughout his life.
And great specific about being slobs---I like him from that, alone!
Wonderful piece, Mark, your tributes are just 'right'. They say it all just right. Andrea once asked, when I was planning a bday dedi, if I could gush a 'little less', as it embarrasses her. Well I don't do a great job of shutting off the spigot, god knows, and I laughed and said, "I'll try..." But you say all this with gentleness and naturalness, and it's just right. Very touching, Mark, I got teared up too. And the Steve Goodman song is just right for your remembrance. Thank you.