Father's Day

Father's Day. You know what that means- thinking about my father. It's been eight years now. I'm afraid I'm forgetting some about him. His voice isn't as clear in my head. The pictures aren't as clear.

What do I remember the most about my father? That he was generous. He liked to see us happy and have things. He loved his swimming pool. I think is kept him both busy and rested. He seemed to especially enjoy it when his friend Moe Haas came over. They chatted, gossiped, swam, and slept in the sun.

He shared my love for dogs (or I shared his). I remember him crying with me when I came over after having to put my Triska to sleep. From my mother I got sympathy. From my father I got really caring.

When I came over to visit on Sundays, he was often Llying on the couch watching golf. Perhaps he was munching on popcorn, his favorite snack. I remember the yellow popcorn bowl, either sitting on the coffee table near the couch or on the bar when he was done with it. He liked to share his popcorn with everyone, including the dog.

Another food I associate with my father is chocolate-- those big Hershey bars he kept in the bar. He could almost eat a whole one by himself. And chocolate ice cream. I don't remember him every getting anything but chocolate at Baskin-Robins. The farthest he strayed was maybe chocolate brownie.

Many of the memories are vague. Going to his store with him on weekends while he worked. Traveling with him to visit customers. His visits to my grandmother almost every day. He was a model for a good son, which I think rubbed off on my brother.

That doesn't bother me, bother me... There were things we did and that others did that bothered him, but he didn't make a big deal about anything in front of us.

One of my favorite memories is when I was in ninth grade and planned on meeting my "boyfriend" at the University. I and my friend Janice told our parents that we had to work on a geology project at the UNM library. Janice's parents took us and mine picked us up at the appointed time. It wasn't until we got home that my father confronted me with the fact that the library wasn't open on Saturday nights. Although I was grounded, I thought he was a class act, and, smarter than I was.

I'm sorry I didn't visit you today, dad, but know I miss you very much.