'ello, 'ello, 'ello
Did ya miss me?
While I was in there, reading Helter Skelter (yes, AGAIN), another part of my mind was remembering all things that were Dad.
(BTW, that sentence alone leads me to believe that a psychoanaylist would have a field day with my head...strange shit in there, man...lol)
My very first memory of anything ever is my Dad. I don't know how many months old I was, but it happened in the house they lived in when they were first married and living in Woodstown. (We moved to Alloway when I was just under a year old I've been told.) Dad was sitting in his white vinyl/plastic/leather-whatever-lounge chair eating dinner and I was in my highchair next to him in the living room. He was watching T.V. and feeding me bites off his plate. I distinctly remember him giving me big, soft, warm, delicious lima beans. I still love them. (And him-no matter how annoyed I may get...)
Then I have just TONS of memories of him when I was a small kid-before kindergarten. I remember he used to be able to kick a ball sooo high up in the air, God coulda caught it if He'd wanted to. It looked like a pencil point, it was so small all the way up there. And, he'd pick me up in his big, strong hands and spin me around at arms length, going up and down, as well as around so my hair would waft up and down EVERY SINGLE TIME I ASKED HIM TO. I loved that.
I remember he and mommiedearest would go over to Dad's brother's house (Uncle Jim, the bible thumpin', in-your-face one-Dad was the cool one with his wire framed glasses, long-ish hair and beard) and they'd all play cards and talk til midnight or so. We kids-me and my cousins-would be up in their rooms, fuckin' around and eventually fall asleep somewhere...Then I'd wake up a little and realize that I was in my favorite place in the world to be...Dad's arms. He'd be holding me, asleep with my head on his shoulder, while he yakked at Uncle Jim and Aunt Elizabeth on their front porch for another hour or so. I would feel, more than hear, his voice and the rumble always made me feel safe and would lull me back to sleep. I remember going squirrel hunting with him once. It was cold, so he gave me his scarf. I wrapped up in it and fell asleep. I don't remember whether or not he got any squirrels that time, but I do remember just BEING WITH DAD. I remember holding his hand while we walked from home to "uptown" (about a half a mile or so) for the Alloway Halloween Parade. I remember him taking me trick-or-treating. Swimming at the lake. Fishing at the spillway. Crabbing down in Canton. I remember every Christmas morning until I was about 14 or 15, Dad waking me up at 3:00 or 3:30am. At first it was because Santa Claus had just left. After that, it was just what we did. We'd all open our presents and stuff, then we'd get into the (freezing ass COLD) VW Bug and go to Mom-Mom and Pop-pop's house. Mom's Mom and Dad. The five of us would open presents, drink coffee (yes, me too. I've been drinking coffee my whole life. Seriously. My mom used to give it to me, lukewarm, in my bottle...) and eventually, I'd fall asleep and someone would take me upstairs and deposit my sleeping butt in Mom-mom's bed. I'd wake up later to the sound of voices coming through the heater grate. I'd hear Uncle Donny's bass rumble, his wife's lilting murmurs, other voices...I'd smell the coffee and head back down there to see those people and my cousins and get some more of Pop-pop's coffee. (I'd keep 'sipping' his, 'til he'd get me my own cup...*grinning*) Throughout the rest of the morning, other relatives would show up until the house was full. Then we'd have a big afternoon dinner and open all those presents. Eventually, Mom, Dad and I would go to Dad's parents house. God, I loved that place. There'd be a whole shitload of other Aunts, Uncles and cousins over there. And, best of all, Pop-pop was there! God, give me strength, how I loved my Dad's Dad. When he died....man. Let me just put it this way: To this day, whenever I hear "Amazing Grace" I wind up on my knees in tears. I'm still not over Pop-pop dying.
(10 minutes later...)
I remember the two of them, Dad and his Dad, watching the Phillies play on T.V. They'd put a towel or two over key windows to block glare, pop some popcorn and sit there together watching the Phillies (probably lose). Sooner or later, one or both of them would light up a Swisher Sweet cigar. Aaahhh...I love the smell of them, too. (I kept the stub of the one Dad had the one time he's been here...) I remember a lot of laughter and love when I think about those times in my life.
Dad was (I think he still is) a member of the Moose. He used to take me there sometimes when I was a kid. That place was sooo cool. It had a tiny bar with a T.V. and a bartender who loved to give me Cokes and peanuts. There was also a huge, beautiful pool table that I was allowed to play on. (I knew to be careful without even being told.) Before we'd leave, I'd get Dad to pick me up so I could pet the stuffed moose head on the wall. God, I wanted that thing. I also remember Dad letting me cruch CrackerJacks right into his ear when we were there. I got to be "Miss Moose 1969" in a parade in Woodstown because of all that. Pretty cool. Except for the hairsprayed-beyond-all-reason helmet-headed hairdo my mom did on me. (BTW, home perms shoulda been against the law...)
It's Dad I remember going to Cowtown with. That's a huge indoor/outdoor flea market in Salem County. He'd always get those to-die-for roasted peanuts on our way to the livestock auction barn. Dad wasn't there to buy animals, he just took me so I could see 'em all. He'd always buy me a .45 or two of Donny Osmond or Michael Jackson-back when he used to be a black kid. (I shouldn't pick on Mike. I loved him then, I bought "Thriller" and I still think he's got talent. But, I just mostly feel sorry for the poor little confused dude these days...)
While Dad was in the Army, he was stationed in Germany. He and mom used to go there for vacation every 4 or 5 years. I got to go the last time. It is BEAUTIFUL. Nowdays, when I watch "The Sound of Music", it takes me straight back there and I wind up in tears every time Capt. Von Trapp sings "Edleweiss". I can hear Dad singing it.
I remember one time, when I was about 9 or so, going to Mom's parent's house with Dad. We went past this garage called "Garton's" and I said to Dad "Dad, did you know that Gartons spelled backwards is snotrag?" He almost drove off the road laughing.
I remember being in the showring on my horse, walking, trotting and cantering past my Dad in the front row...shelling lima beans while he watched. I remember finding all kinds of bizarre aquatic-animal-life parts (fish, a snapping turtle or two, the occaisional eel and once even octopus) parts waaaay out back in the yard, left for whatever wanted a free, exotic dinner.
Dad was always the one I talked to about EVERYTHING. Guys, boobs (or the lack thereof), losing my virginity (after the boobage had indeed arrived just like he said it would), getting arrested (!),...I mean everything. He taught me to drive. Let me drive the VW around the horse pasture endlessly, then down the road after I got my license. One time, after spending untold hours driving around the horse pasture, I announced to him that I had finally put two whole miles on the VW out there. He asked me how I knew that. And, I told him I'd been keeping an eye on the odometer and it had finally moved the second number from the right, up two. He said, dryly, "That's 20 miles, not two. There is no tenths measurement on that one." Oh. Okay.
Then there was the time, while I was in high school, that I spent 7 hours and 59 minutes on the phone with my boyfriend. Who was in the Army. In the 82nd Airborne Division in North Carolina. All Dad said when he got the phone bill was "Well, fer Chrissake. Why didn't you just stay on the phone one more minute and make it an even eight hours?"
Dad didn't kill me when I totalled his Ford pickup at the unheard-of speed of 15 miles an hour. That's right Fifteen miles an hour...if that. He even let me drive home from the dentist's office the same day. With him in the car!
I have a couple or few more memories of Dad that aren't as fun, but still huge. Like the day my mom announced her intention to get a divorce when I was nine. She had a habit of telling me ALL the time, "Either go in your room, or go outside." Well, this particular day she yelled my name and I said "Yeah, I know. Either in my room or outside. I'm going outside." She said "No, come here." Then, with no preamble, she said "Your father and I are getting divorced." Boom. Just like that. I didn't know whether to cry or puke. Or both. I just kept running from the bathroom to Dad. Later that night, after she had gone with her stupid boyfriend, Dad was talking to the asshole on the phone. Just as I was getting ready to go to my friends house to spend the night, Dad fell off the chair he was sitting on and hit the floor, having a convulsion. I FREAKED. Thank God Himself that my Aunt Carol and Uncle Pat lived upstairs. I got them, they got an ambulance and away Dad went to the hospital. I spent the next few weeks?....months?.....forevers?...being shuttled around to various relatives until Dad got out of the hospital and mom managed to yank her head out of her ass for a few more years.
I was always terrified that something was going to happen to him-especially when they went to Germany-and I'd be stuck with her.
Dad was always one of my best friends when I was growing up. I wish he woud be again, while I finish. Yeah, he was one of my closet confidants, most fun people to hang with, my best parent. He was a lotta things to me. He still is. He always HAS been. The only thing he hasn't been to me, for the last 22 years, is accessable. Or close, any more.
And, there is no other way to put this: That changed when Kim came along. So, if it changed when she came along, another way to see it is that it changed BECAUSE OF her...understand? So, I blamed her and myself, sometimes, that I lost Dad. And, believe me...I did LOSE him. I don't know where the guy is who was my Dad, but I do know this really funny, cool old dude in New Jersey named Norman, whom, if I can get him on the phone at work, is pretty cool to talk to once in a while. Ain't that just GREAT?
Right.
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