IT WAS ALL LOVE

OH, MY PA-PA  Eddie Fisher

Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so wonderful
 Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so good
 No one could be, so gentle and so lovable
 Oh, my pa-pa, he always understood.

Gone are the days when he could take me on his knee
 And with a smile, he'd change my tears to laughter

Oh, my pa-pa, so funny, so adorable
 Always the clown so funny in his way

Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so wonderful
 Deep in my heart, I miss him so today.

True words were never sung, nor said or have such meaning as they do pertain to my Dad.

Yesterday June 11th was the sixth anniversary of Mom’s passing from this Earth, today, is the 29th Anniversary of Dad’s passing.

Funny or strange how things work out, commemorating Dad while burying Mom, and in both cases, I have a lot to be happy about. The good memories are all I recall the sad and bad times seem to escape me.

Dad was a good man, he loved people and loved, like Mom, to see them laugh, and if he was the source of the laughter, all the better. Often he had funny stories he made up at Mom’s expense and Mom would counter. Dad would laugh and then goad Mom to physical retaliation as she chased him around the house until he let her land a haymaker on his arm and he could pretend it hurt.

There were so many people he helped out, people who were too poor and couldn’t afford clothing for their kids, a meal, or needed repairs done. Dad would gather his tools, his only son, and start to the person in need and things were better. Often I would get a present from them because I was there helping Dad.

He was proud of his large flock and spent whatever money he did have on his kids. We didn’t have much, but we did have a sense of love, security, and never complained that we never went on a vacation, he just couldn’t afford it.

He was keen on my getting an education and I didn’t disappoint him. He made sure I had a job working for him in the shipping department of a factory and did everything in his power to help me in other ways. I fulfilled his dream of becoming an artist and one day he came with Mom to visit me at my office. As they arrived they stood outside watching me as I was giving instructions to a couple of artists under me, and when he entered, all his life was wrapped up in what he saw. That day and the day I graduated from college changed his vision of me, from wearing work clothes on the factory floor to suits and ties in my own office. I could see the pride rise in his eyes as he looked in and saw the atrium that sat outside my office, the posh leather chairs and desk, along with a drawing board that just made him happier.

But what about Dad, what did he do, what am I so grateful for?

He taught me to love baseball, like Mom to cook and appreciate good foods, he lent me his ambition and work ethic, and he got family together, joyously, every Christmas Eve, his and my favorite holiday to savor Mom’s incredible lobster sauce and spaghetti.

Often we played cards after a holiday dinner and Dad had his style. He would win without even looking at his cards in poker, bet and raise, then look at his cards, laying them down to let you know, ‘Not today, son!’

He was the target of my antics, and he took it in stride. Once he sent me a love letter from a made-up girl, telling me I was so handsome. I was 8-years old at the time and he would have had me except, I noticed the penmanship and how she wrote like an old man, mainly Dad.

One night as a young teen I was lying on the floor watching the TV. A horror movie was on and Dad was sitting behind me out of view when it got to the tensest part when suddenly a hand appears over me and a screech scares me out of my mind and into my bedroom to change my underwear. I loved it and appreciated his timing.

I got my revenge one day at a family party. Dad liked to nap and could at a drop of a hat. He was lying on a lounge chair with his eyes closed enjoying the sun as people all around him were laughing or eating and drinking. It was time, my time to even the score. There was a hose lying next to him sitting in the sun. I took the hose and just barely put it in his side pocket and trickled the water on. Suddenly he opened his eyes with alarm showing urgency, sat up, and ran into the house. When he came out he congratulated me on my use of tools, telling me he thought he had wet his pants because the water was warm from sitting in the sun!

There are no streets named after him, or buildings or places that bear his imprimatur, but he resides in my heart, a thank-filled heart forever.