A Dad Memory
A Dad Memory
With a flurry of thoughts inundating and overwhelming my mind, brought on by the intense sentimentality of this season, I struggle to sift through them all to reach the memories that make me feel lighter, make my heart smile, and there I rest thinking of my dad.
I first met my dad in 1958 at the age of 4 ½ – he having left Italy to join his siblings in California the month I was born in 1954. At the end of the long trek from Italy, I was wide awake when my very handsome father walked into the Oakland train station, dressed in a suit and tie, hands in his pockets. I was peeking out from behind my mother who gently informed me, “Ecco tuo padre.”
His kind and loving smile and that compassionate twinkle in his deep brown eyes, that I grew to love and depend on, are what I remember the most, along with the instant attachment I felt toward him, regardless that he was not present for the first 4 ½ years of my life.
Almost from the beginning, I was fortunate to spend a lot of time with my dad, whom I called, “Daddy,” as per his request. He was a self-employed janitor and had his own business – not bad for a man who had a rudimentary understanding of the English Language. I was his “helper,” and later on, in high school, his one and only “employee,” and earned my first monthly paycheck.
I truly cherish my first memory of working with him. I was quite little and we were cleaning one of the banks. He had built a cart on wheels for me on which he placed a large garbage bin – which I could easily push, with a place for my dusting cloth for the surfaces, and a wet rag for the ashtrays after I emptied them. I also had to change the date in the plastic holder for the next day. Since I was too short to reach it, I first emptied the small wastepaper basket into the larger bin, turned it on its side, stepped up on it, and changed the date. I’m not sure where the idea came from – me – or my dad- all I know is that when I looked back at him, he was beaming at me and gave me one his astounding smiles.
I loved being with him – he made me feel so special and capable! There was always a steady stream of talking and laughing!! He was an attentive listener to anything I had to say – and, boy, could he make me laugh – sometimes in spite of myself. Often times, we would have to wait for the workers to leave so we could go in and clean. We would sit in his lime green ’56 Chevy work truck, and he would concoct outrageous stories about anyone who passed by – and as hard as I tried not to laugh at the often inappropriate tales – I would inevitably burst to the point of tears.
We also ate – a lot – and both of us were quite chubby!! Now, my mom always served a very delicious and nutritious meal before we would leave – but it was a long stretch between 5 and 9 when we were done, so one of my tasks was to go buy “snacks” – Ding Dongs – Ho Hos – Hostess fruit pies (our favorite.) We would also, on occasion, have a complete “other” dinner, stopping off at the nearby DerWienersnitzel for a hot dog and fries!!
On Saturday mornings, I would get to go with him on his “ weekend jobs,” but first, breakfast; he absolutely loved the American breakfast at Bob’s Big Boy Diner where we had to sit at the counter so he could flirt with the waitresses. Though I was a bit embarrassed by his banter, it was never enough to make me not want to be there with him.
At home, I loved snuggling up to him, with my head on his propitious belly, which he always said was simply full of air. He was the one my brother and I would run to when my mother insisted on the necessity – once a month – to clean out our systems with a nasty concoction of Milk of Magnesium and orange juice. My dad could never save us from our fate, but his melodious loud laughter and comical comments did ease the horror.
Though my dad did suffer from depression, you’d never know it because he was so playful, and loved to make us laugh and smile. He would spray the window to our kitchen with the garden hose and startle us, and then there were the faces he would make – no matter what mood you were in, it was impossible not to react and laugh in turn.
He lovingly called me “Lori,” and he always encouraged me, made me feel so very loved, and I know that a lot of my own wisdom, strength, sense of humor, and my heart comes directly from him.
My dad has been gone almost 28 years, and yet, his presence in my life, in who I am, and how I define myself, is still so very strong. Not a day goes by when something he said or did doesn’t come to mind. I can still conjure up his comforting, melodic voice, his heartfelt laughter, his “softly callused” hands, his unconditional love, his kindness and compassion. He is still my “go to” person when I need him, and that is an incredible gift.