Dad

Today was my father's birthday. He would have been 91. This picture was taken probably about 1925 on the Illinois River where his German relatives lived. His mother was Irish, his father German. His dad died in 1929. They eventually lost the house and everything in it including some first editions of Dickens. He hated Herbert Hoover and the SOB's that caused the Great Depression.

Dad was very smart, hillarious, a fantastic story teller, possessed of a remarkable memory, a great cook and a genuine liberal, although he and I argued about Vietnam. He finished high school at age 15 but could not graduate because he couldn't afford - what was it now? - the proper clothing. I think he needed new shoes, as well. He was marked for life by that. The smartest kid in the class - but he could not graduate.

He served in the European theater in WWII as part of a medical collecting company. They gathered up the wounded and transported them to mobile hospitals. His commanding officer was a Dr. Rickets from somewhere in Pennsylvania - Harrisburg, perhaps. He liked my dad and invited hime to play cards with the officers whenever there was a lull. Very M.A.S.H., I think.

He told his war stories about a thousand times. His experiences in Europe were the signal events of his life, even more than marrying, having a family and all the rest. For a small town boy, the encounters with war, a massive battle for civilization and being in the very places where Western civilization was nurtured and advanced, must have been powerful. He wasn't your average GI, either in temperament or outlook, and he absorbed much of what he saw and heard.

People really liked my father. He was fair and honest and always tried to do the right thing. He and my mother were an institution. Now I am the "older" generation, and it doesn't feel right. Who could ever take their places in the scheme of things?

Dad loved poetry, and toward the end of his life when his short term memory was pretty non-existent, he would quote the Elegy in a Country Church Yard - Gray's Elegy. It begins:

"The church bell tolls the knell of parting day"

and contains the lines:

"Full many a gem of purst ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

Dad would be horrified with GWB and Company. Absolutely. He'd be writing about 3 editorials a week to the local paper and slapping his copy of The Nation on the coffee table to make a point. In a way I'm glad they're not here to see what a god-awful mess the world has become. They would love their great grandchildren, to be sure, and would love the internet and email, but 'W' - worse than Nixon. Ten times worse.

Happy Birthday, Dad, wherever you are. 'Til we meet again ...

(Blogger is getting on my nerves.Lots of trouble uploading images. Arghhh!)