Cat's In The Cradle

One of the best things about FaceBook (tm) to me, other than how much money the stock has made D2, is when friends post videos of old song performances. This am, and old high school acquaintance posted Harry Chapin singing "Cat's in the Cradle," and it took me back in time.

I remember buying the album, "Verities and Balderdash," and knowing each song. "Cats" was a hit for Harry, who was from Long Island. One afternoon, my Dad and I sat in our den watching the Mike Douglas show -- we both liked it, as he had on guests from my  Dad's WW II years as well as new guests appealing to Boomers. Harry Chapin came on and sang his song.

My Dad liked Chapin immediately. After the song, he turned to me, wistfully, and said "That doesn't describe us, right?" I laughed -- no, Dad, you are the exact OPPOSITE of the father in the song. I mean, here we were on a weekday afternoon, spending time together. Some Dads attended Little League games -- my Dad attended practices.  No -- the concept of the father too busy for his son, until it was too late, was thankfully very foreign to me.

A big part of that was the luck of timing. I came along when my Dad was 42, and down to working one normal job from the three he worked after the war to support my Mom and two older sisters. As the 60s turned to the 70s, my father found financial success -- he was a top salesman for his company, Toscany, and many of his earned commissions came in without him having to actually go out and sell. A few big clients, like Alexander's stores, and Al's Pottery, paid him handsomely.

And most importantly, it gave him free time -- more than my other friends' Dads, who had to work regular hours. And my father spent that time with his family -- my Mom, Long Island sister and brother in law and their kids, and California sister when she would visit, or we would travel to the left coast to see her.

So I dug the song, for its story, like all of Chapin's stuff, but it didn't reflect my life.

I met Harry at my high school. We had a benefit night for the kids of Willowbrook, following a Geraldo Rivera investigative piece on them. Rivera and Chapin played in a charity basketball game in my school's gym, and as some kind of student representative, I met them both.

Years later, Chapin played at UM -- in the Spring of '80. I went to see him on the Patio, holding my freshman Bio test in hand -- I had received an A for the class. After the concert, he sat on a bench and signed autographs.

I handed him my exam, and said "Harry -- I'm a fellow Islander, and I got an A on my final. Would you sign it?" He smiled and said "I will if you contribute a buck to help feed the hungry in Miami. I mean, literally a buck." I took out a dollar (I probably had $10 all together) and slid it into the bucket. He signed the test -- I think I still have it somewhere among the detritus of my college days, stored in a container, probably getting moldy in the garage.

Of course, soon after that, Harry Chapin was dead -- killed in a crash on the Long Island Expressway -- or maybe of a heart attack that preceeded the crash. Either way -- he was gone too young.

But today he played on my computer's speakers, and for that and the warm memories, I am thankful.