He'll have been gone 11 years, tomorrow.
- He had a very conservative, small town (Baptist?) upbringing, yet somehow came away with the conviction that he could not fight in any wars; he was a conscienteous objector and did alternative service during WWII.
- He had a deliciously wicked sense of humor, yet was one of the gentlest souls I have ever known.
- He whistled operas. Mozart was his favorite.
- He clicked his teeth when he ate cheese. (How did he do that?)
- He had a penchant for cheap chocolates, the cheaper the better.
- He loved buying and working on odd, old cars. At different points in my life he had a Sunbeam, a Singer, an MG, a Morris, and several Peugots. This love also extended to a sailboat, an old C scow, which he fondly called "The Slithery Dee."
- He rarely wore socks. His ankles were frequently blue with cold.
- He loved cats, all cats. When he entered a house where there were cats, he would remove his shoes and tickle the cats with his bare feet.
- He loved the binterong at the zoo. What is a binterong?
- He never failed to light his pipe under the smoke detector, thus setting off a horrible noise many times a day. (I think it was unintentional each time, but I will say that the morning after he died MY smoke detector went off for about a minute for no reason that we could discover. Really.)
- He played the bass recorder. After having a serious stroke a few years before he died, he re-taught himself to play, and his long-time recorder group (always referred to as "the toodlers") adjusted their repertoire to include many easier pieces for him.
- He died exactly a month before my youngest daughter was born. I regret that they didn't get to know each other.
8 comments:
You neglected to mention the unique mantra he would recite while working on those odd, old cars. As I recall, much of it described individuals who engaged in unnatural acts with animals.
I miss him, too.
Eureka!
Oh my. I just got shivers. I'd never seen that photo. It's strange that dv just evoked her own dad in a recent e-mail. These were men from another era. I remember your dad as being very nice, if not a bit out of step with each conversation. I remember his lack of socks, a habit that I have adopted in the past years. He and my dad had this in common: they both worked at the health service, but both would have prefered to be at home tinkering. Am I right?
Caroline: Yes, my dad was a tinkerer. I cannot think of my dad w/o thinking of your dad. They both seemed like doctors who didn't care a whole lot about money or prestige. Joe played recorder at John's memorial service -- did you know that?
I remember seeing your dad a couple of times at the Student Health Center when I was a lowly graduate student. Unlike many of my professors, he did not attempt to prove that he was way smarter than me. A kind and compassionate doctor. I wish more physicians could be like him........sigh
Hi Suzy,
I just got home, and I want to write this to you before I forget. A piece of unrequested advice: One of the great things about blogging is meeting other bloggers in unexpected places. I urge you to read this blog: http://goldendaze-ginnie.blogspot.com/ just once. She's a very progressive 71-year-old woman. If you write her a comment, she will write you back.
Another place to find cool blog buddies is in the comments section of other people's blogs.
If you write to anyone on my roll, each will write you back. I especially love the 3 Canadian sisters: Sacred Suzie, Jamie and Shannon. They are like cousins we never met. They are on my log.
Finally, yes, I remember that Joe played at your father's memorial service. It was very hard for him, but he really wanted to pay tribute to a friend and colleague. Susan and I found that funerary sheet music when we went through his papers last month.
We smiled when we found it. It seemed like a rite of passage -- because we played a weeping recorder duet at Joe's cremation.
I doubt that I knew your father (I was in Madison - 1969-1973 and 1983-1989), but am touched by your portrait of him! Cherish your memories. Share your feelings.
Thanks!
Geo: Thank you for your kind words. Funny how you have to get middle aged before you really appreciate your parents.
The smoke detector going off was not the only weird thing surrounding his death. The day preceding his (unexpected) death I actually got to have the deepest, most loving conversation I'd ever had with my dad. I cherish that.
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