All Is Quiet on Father's Day

So FD comes tomorrow, and for me it will mark the 32nd year since I last had a living father. Last night I met my friend Crazy Joel at Taurus in the Grove, to catch up and talk about the future of our law careers, and he reminded me that my Dad dying in my arms when I was 20 was the singular event in my life. He's right. My last memories of celebrating FD with my Dad were going out to one of his favorite delis, and buying him some Tabac, his favorite cologne. We'd always joke about his big Tabac purchase, in the Bahamas. In 1970 we took our first cruise, from NYC, and it was to Nassau in the Bahamas. At the Straw Market, Dad found a store that sold cologne, and bought a whole case of his favored Tabac, for a fraction of the US cost. When he got home and opened it, he discovered it was a case of water in Tabac bottles. The laugh was worth the wasted money, he'd say. For years, my Father's Day meant the start of summer camp for the Ds. There'd be a big rally at the JCC gym, and the Ds would learn that year's camp song. From there, we'd usually go visit Wifey's parents, for dinner usually at Canton, one of the few "inappropriate in law" friendly restaurants. I'd order their "special steak," which came sizzling, and my father in law would dig in, commenting that "meat must be SOFT." Those summers seemed to go on a long time...the Ds rose through grade school, to middle, and then high school, and went from being campers to counselor aids -- typically in the performing arts camp run by a Jewphilic teacher named Carmen. This year, we're celebrating a night early, for me, anyway. We're headed to the Palm, in Bay Harbor, with the Ds and Jonathan, D2's boyfriend. Jonathan's leaving Tuesday for his new job in NYC, so we'll make the dinner a bon voyage party, too. The Ds and Wifey will toast me, and I will toast them. It's nice to be the Dad when the kids are absurdly awesome... Tomorrow, actual FD, we'll reconvene at MJH, to honor Wifey's Dad -- now 90, and suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. The last few weeks we visited, he seemed to be in decline, but as we learned with my Mom during the last months of life, the very old tend to porpoise -- rising and falling in and out of functionality. After MJH, we'll head to Norman and Deb's house -- they're hosting a big FD party. We're privileged to be included -- Norman's family is bustling, and loving, and hilarious. And the patriarch, Max, is one of my favorite people -- he's many people's favorite men. In his late 80s, he's still blessed with good health, and kids, grand kids, and great grandkids who daily complete for his time. The seek his wisdom about life issues -- he recently consulted heavily about the purchase of his granddaughter and her husband's first house -- and he covers his large family with some of the finest fatherly love there is. So all is quiet on Father's Day. If only they brought me slippers and a pipe --filled with, oh, never mind...