I
have so many daddy daughter memories, One of my vivid memories was to dance on
his toes. Mom and Dad were amazing
dancers and I always loved to dance too.
But as a little girl on his toes I would hop when he arrived home
earlier and my arms would reach up to his hands and we’d dance singing “dance
with a dolly with a hold in her stocking, knees keep a knockin, toes keep a
rockin” and that with my butterfly kisses, he was my cat’s meow. And how he loved dogs often bringing
home strays much to my mother’s chagrin!
He
also gave me elocution lessons “how now brown cow” had to be pronounced with
dramatic influence and conviction whether it was said as a question, a
statement of fact, and with each variety of emotions articulating was important.
since I was a little girl I wanted to be a singer or a doctor but daddy
protected me fiercely from realizing these dreams being a singer. It was a rough biz in the day and
to get anywhere you had to sleep around which of course he didn’t want to
subject me to that world and I guess he didn’t see phi beta kappa in me so the
doctor idea was ruled out as was singing because in his way of thinking you had
to be unique and the best – a message I obviously believed—all the while it was
his way protecting me from failure and he was probably doing the right thing
because I found my darling Stan and we married when I was 20 and daddy not only
adored him like a son but proud of him.
When
I did begin to sing professionally in night clubs in my late fifties and he no
longer felt threatened for me, he would remind me how to project the lyric and
sing with dramatics. He was always
happy to come to see me and holding on to each note with me.
Dad
was my emotional anchor, always.
If I had a problem, no matter what, he would want me to talk to him
about it. He wanted everyone to
come to him. This would not only make him feel useful and helpful but he truly
felt he could help everyone do the right thing, according to him. He was actually insulted when I told
him I was seeing a therapist and not him!
He
never purchased anything unless he could pay cash for it and often distressed
with me because we didn’t abide by his creedo! Helping me and my brother out of financial jams along the
way was again another way he felt was protecting his kids.
In
the past year as it became more difficult for him to sit at his desk which is
where he spent a lot of time doing his WORK, or in his recliner receiving his
emails off the TV or watching his favorite shows, he was playing bridge with
his bridge buddies, a bridge master he was and told you so. Dad valued each day and especially those that included bridge. A huge thank you to his bridge buddies for helping to make his life
so valued, having each day to look forward to what he loved to do. Play bridge! I recently took up the game and so enjoyed sharing his knowledge with me, a language I now understood.
Dad had many interests besides bridge and golf which he played for many years, having to give that up not
that long before he hung up his car keys.
When mother died in 2006, Dad was very lonely and having reasonable
expectations from me that I could not always fulfill. Dad needed a perk!
It was around 2007 that I created my own dating service asking friends
if they knew a wonderful women with several criteria, they had to live in the
valley, drive, play bridge and love music; well, a dear friend had just the
woman and we made the introduction.
It worked and she became Dad’s lady friend and together they enjoyed a
beautiful chapter in both their lives from seeing every movie the minute they
were released, playing bridge, singing together, celebrating Shabbat with her
family and HE became a patriarch figure in her family as well.
Our
families found great joy in their new chapter and relief too, I must admit, and
our family circle enlarged. With
their busy schedule we still found time, celebrating many Shabbats with our
family and friends, to which he always looked forward.
AND
as his health was declining, in order to see me more often, it was never enough
time, I became his
bookkeeper. Oy did we fight! I learned what OCD was from my father
for every nickel he spent he kept journals, his check books etc all had to be
placed in a certain way, and I couldn’t rearrange one thing. With every check I wrote, he asked,
“did you write on the stub what it was for” …’yes dad” … “did you write the
check number and date on the statement” he would question. "Yes, I did, dad” to "did you stamp it" and on and on. Well, of course, at the time it was
frustrating and now I only wish we could have had more Thursdays. Interesting note he died on a Thursday
as did my mother.
