My friend C asked me to write about my dad, what he was like, what his growing up was like.
I've been slightly reluctant because it isn't my story to tell really.
Well, maybe it is. I shared this with Linda, just to get a start on things and begin to tell the tale. And it is a tale.
Herbie's wedding, unsure of the year. Photo of a photo courtesy of my cousin, but I'll be getting my mom's copy and making a print
My dad was the not quite middle kid of seven. Esther, Buddy, Margie, Jimmy, Bart, Herbie, Mary. The older siblings all moved along in life, like you do. Marrying, or joining the service. My dad did not qualify for the service due to a metal plate in his arm after he fell off a wall. My mom says one of his brothers pushed him off the wall.
He dropped out of Catholic school after 8th grade. He was not a good student, and in fact, you'd say he was illiterate. My mom would always take him places and read things to him. She'd yell at people that he couldn't read or write. I honestly don't think I ever saw my dad sign his name now that I think of it.
He probably had a learning disability, and of course in the 40s and 50s they didn't know about learning disabilities. Instead of getting academic help, he got the ruler often for not knowing answers or not being able to read things. He graduated 8th grade, and they sent him to public school, where he couldn't read, and so he dropped out. Bart was not a fan of the Catholic church, kind of as a result. I cannot say as I blame him.
He started working to support his mom and his younger siblings. His dad died in 1955, the older were siblings gone, and he was there. Age 15, man of the house.
He did his best. I personally am very relieved he never served in the military.
Dad was a lifelong resident of Huntington, until my mom wanted for them to move to Massachusetts to be closer to her mother and her sister. All those years of being far apart with no texting, video calls, social media.
They moved to their little trailer about 17 years ago. My dad always wanted to go back to Huntington and any time they traveled back for things he was the happiest. Even though the hometown had changed so very much, this was his home.
I'm not sure what year it was but he got a job with the town, and he worked for the parks department. He lined baseball fields and painted signs. He had friends with his co-workers. They drank a lot. He drank a lot. He'd take the morning to line ballfields, and then have a 6 can lunch and a nap.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
He also worked at a gas station, holding down the two jobs to support his family.I remember their work shirts, the Chevron logo, the ding of the hose getting run over by every car coming in for service.
I remember sitting in the very hot car with the windows down, mom talking to dad, Linda wrenching to get to the window to say hello to her boyfriend. The Everly Brothers or an 8track tape of K-Tel's greatest hits with Allman Brothers, James Taylor, Janis Joplin.... those were probably playing.
We lived on what I thought was a gigantically tall hill but really it wasn't. Near the harbor and Mill Dam Pond. The living room was on the first floor of the house, with a porch, and you'd just walk in and there was a TV and couch. Going upstairs, the second floor consisted of the kitchen, the bathroom, and my parents' bedroom. Linda and I had our bedrooms on the third floor.
Kind of awkward to have to walk downstairs through your parents' bedroom to go pee because the bathroom was off the kitchen. But that was the setup.
I watched TV through a hole in the floor in my parents' room when I didn't want to go to sleep and of course I got busted when one of them came up to get something from the kitchen. There was a rug put down at some point so I couldn't watch through the hole anymore.
Their bedroom had a balcony over the first floor porch, and when there was a thunderstorm my dad would scoop us up, take us out there, and let us watch the lightning, hear the thunder. And have no fear.
My parents fought a lot. My dad would get really drunk and come home, ask "what's for din din, what's for din din," and my mom would get mad. He thought he was funny, and she had no tolerance for it.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
I couldn't wait to leave home and go to college.
Because I didn't understand my dad, or know my dad, I didn't really know the person that everyone else knew. The incredible hard worker, the person who sacrificed a lot for everyone other than himself, whether it was his mother and siblings, or his wife and his kids. Everyone tells me he had the best sense of humor. I never really saw it until much later in life.
Doug and I were on the porch with him one summer day, and he'd been feeding peanuts to the squirrels. He loved the squirrels and the birds. He filled the bird feeders every day and they'd be crowded with finches and all sorts of little friends. Doug decided to make an obstacle course for the squirrels, "let's make them work for the peanuts!" So he and my dad got ropes and set up a bridge and a ladder, and used a broom handle that they had to climb up. And they set peanuts all over.
Those little jerks worked so hard for it, and got their reward. My dad sat in his lounge chair and laughed.
I'm just thinking about how much he loved that. And my husband laughs like a loud boisterous hyena sometimes, so he was howling too. My mom came out and made them undo it all because it was mean to the squirrels.
But right then, I saw how he just absolutely loved it, and it brought him joy.
We walked out of their favorite restaurant one day and this motorcycle was parked, with this helmet on it and he may have been functionally illiterate but boy could he read that. He thought it was hilarious. So I said "go over there, let me take your picture!" And he did.
By far, this photo is the favorite of every single cousin in the family. They all fall out laughing when they see it.
Of course, my mother didn't think it was funny but.
C'mon. It's funny.
Family mattered a lot to my dad, even if I didn't notice it at the time, being green and dumb. But over the years, my cousins would throw parties and reunions, and we'd all get out there for a good time. And it was fun. And very obvious, my cousins loved my dad, and he loved them.
Pictured above is us with the mural on the side wall at Finnegan's in Huntington. The lady in the middle is my husband Jimmy's wife Margaret, she was a barmaid at Finnegan's back in the day, and whenever we get the chance, we pilgrimage to Auntie. Front row, Debbie, Doug, Joey, Jimmy, Jimmy's wife Nicole. In the back, Bart, Linda, Me, Auntie Margaret, Shirley, Esther and Aunt Margie.
There's more to write about I am sure but as a 30,000 ft overview this is a good start.
I really should write about his hair.
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