Happy Birthday Dad

My Dad was born May 29, 1919. He would have been 101 today. He died two months after turning 63 -- in 1982.  I miss him every day.

My Dad was a self taught intellectual. One of his proudest accomplishments, other than his family, was the time he wrote a long letter to the NY Times columnist Russel Baker, and Baker wrote him back, praising his words.  Dad truly regretted never getting a college education.

He did, most of the way to a Bachelor's degree, with me. When I would come home from UM, he would want to know details about my classes -- how the professors taught, their take on the world. My college years were some of my life's greatest, and a large part of that is because I got to share it with Dad.

I was privileged to have him as my best friend until 4 days before I turned 21. The day he died, I knew deep down I needed to become a man -- my Mom, who never balanced a check book, or paid a bill, needed me to. As I plodded my way through my senior year, and helping Mom, I would ask myself "WWHD" -- what would Hy do? I tried to act as best I thought he would have.

Dad got to know two of his grandchildren, and met a third when he was born.  He never got to see my nephew Henry, nor my two Ds.

It's funny, though, my Ds feel like they know him. They grew up hearing about Grandpa Hy all the time.

One rainy morning, in our last house, I was on the family room couch reading the morning Herald. D1 must have been about 5, and she was snuggled up next to me. Her toddler sister and Wifey were asleep.

D1 looked up at me with her doe eyes, which are now the eyes of our grandson, and asked "Daddy -- would Grandpa Hy have loved me?"  I started to cry, which made D1 hug me, and I told her there was zero doubt he would have...and did, from above.

Dad had many talents, but one of them was NOT being handy. I'm a little better than he was, but not much. The running joke in the family was that if something could not be fixed with scotch tape, it either didn't need fixing, or a professional needed to be called.

A few years ago, Wifey made me two lovely shadow boxes -- one with pictures and trinkets from my Mom, and another one for Dad.  His US Army dog tags are in it, as well as a small watch my Mom gave him in 1942.

Recently, the little watch fell out, and I've kept it at my computer desk. Finally today, it was time to put it back with the rest of my Dad memorabilia.  Sure enough -- I got some two sided tape, and stuck the tiny watch back into the box. And, for good measure, I got some Scotch tape, and taped the little window door shut. Dad would have been proud.

I miss him so.  Happy birthday, Dad.