Thirty Seven

Today is my Dad's yahrzeit, the anniversary of his death. Thirty seven years have gone by.  My Mom's been gone over 6 years, but she died at 93, instead of 63, and her death seemed far more natural and gentle. Plus, when she died I had a very full life -- beloved kids and Wifey, and a career, and a house, and investments. When Dad died I was still a kid, really.

The years truly do have a way of slipping by. Funny how the time slips away, as the great Willie Nelson wrote.

July 14, 1982 was the worst day of my life. I've been amazingly blessed to have many best days of my life since then.

Dad was a forward thinker, but he'd have been shocked how much has changed since he was here. He'd have called our 5th appendage, cell phones, "Dick Tracy stuff."  He would have actually LOVED being able to keep in touch with his wife and kids instantly -- he worried after us so much. If we had them back when he was alive, it may have saved hours pacing in his Florida Room waiting for me to make it home from Miami, and my sisters from their points of origin.

Trump was already famous in '82, as the spoiled rich, con man real estate guy. My Dad was shocked that Ronald Reagan was elected, a "B list actor," he called him. He would have absolutely refused to believe who our president is.

Mostly Dad loved his family, and loved when we were all together. After he died, and I had some means, I really tried to keep us that way -- bringing us all on trips together -- to Las Vegas, and San Francisco, and Key West. Fate had other plans for my extended family -- mostly disparate.  Just the other day I reached out to my nephew's ex wife -- her daughter is, per FaceBook (tm) starting grad school at UM soon. I asked if the young lady was moving closer to campus -- she lives up in West Broward, and if so, Wifey and I would get together with her and I would share my Canes tales and connections on campus. Nah -- no response. If nothing else in life, I have learned well how to take a hint.

But my Dad would have absolutely delighted in the Ds, especially their life choices for husbands. Back when my UM friends were insisting on marrying Jewesses, and it never seemed important to me, I had a talk with Dad -- raised Orthodox, and thereafter rebelled. Did he care if I married a Jewish girl? Well -- it would probably make things easier -- you share the same background and values -- but if you had the choice between a not so nice Jewish girl and a gem of a gentile girl -- pick the gentile.

He always thought the luckiest thing he ever did was marry my Mom, and he wanted the same for me. He told me how his family was cold, and had problems showing love, and my Mom's was the opposite -- warm people who loved to be together and laugh.

My Mom made my Dad retire at 60. He only got three years to enjoy it.  I so wish he had more.

Dan Fogelberg also died young, of prostate cancer. His song about his father always brings tears to my eyes, especially the line that resonates so clearly with me: "My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man...I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band."

So Dad is heavily in my thoughts today. If there's an afterlife, I like to think of him enjoying the cosmic equivalent of a corned beef on rye sandwich -- his favorite. More -- maybe his spirit and Mom's are together again. Now that is a nice thought to have...