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Father's Day - Remembering My Father


My Father. No matter what I said I was going to do, daddy never said, "you can't", he always said, "how you gonna do that?" When I talked to him, nothing was impossible.

I used to work for a large weekly newspaper and reported to the owner. I never had a title; the owner met with only a few people in the office, I met with him in his office everyday. When our chief editor wrote an article about the employees in our three offices, it was said that I headed up the main office. I was delighted because I did not know that. I cut the article and showed it to my dad, he kept the article posted in his barber shop window for almost one year. I first was pleased and finally embarrassed when the article started to turn yellow and curl from the sun, but I knew that he did it out of love and daddy-pride.

While dancing with my dad at my wedding, he said something to me that he would continue to say until he died in the early eighties. He told me that I could always come home. Knowing that I would probably never return home, but that I was welcome to return to open arms, I have been able to do whatever I set out to do. I recall a time when my dad started calling me and asking if I were o.k. I always assured him that I was fine. Then I would cry. Many years later I learned those calls were made because my ex borrowed a large sum of money from my dad. His reason? I had left unpaid bills. Untrue, but a sure way to get money from my dad. My dad would be proud to know I am debt-free. His generation was of the lay-a-way plan. Why charge it, when you can lay it away? He, nor my mom, ever knew that at one time I had more than 20 credit cards, mostly high-end stores. Hey, if you are going to be in debt anyway, why not high-end debt? I may have been a mommy and daddy's girl but I was not stupid, I never shared that information with them.

As I type this I can visualize my dad in his barbershop cutting hair. Four or five old men are sitting in front of the shop in straight-back chairs. They are lined up like birds on a wire, talking, drinking soda that dad sold for 45 cents a can and smoking Camel or Philip Morris cigarettes.

My dad could spin a wild tale so you never knew if he was telling the real truth or his truth. It's interesting, years later while going through his old papers I found out that some daddy's truths were often not as exciting as they were told, but they were truths. I found his Army discharge papers and was surprised to note how much he had accomplished. Perhaps he did not speak of this because he had such a bad time in Korea, he chose not to discuss the Army years. My mother once told me that my dad had terrible nightmares. I was surprised to hear that, I cried.

My father's passion was his small garden behind his shop. When he was in the hospital the last time, he placed a very small envelope in my hand. Later when I looked inside, I found two color slides of him in his beloved garden. Many years later I realized that he knew that his time was limited and the slides were his gift to me. I still miss him, I still have the slides. Every time I do something I am proud of, I miss him because I know he would be proud too. When I go to the New Jersey shore and stand on the balcony that overlooks the Atlantic ocean I smile, because I can imagine my dad standing, fishing pole in hand, fishing from the boardwalk or one of the jetty's.

Remembering daddy, my father.

Happy Father's Day everyone.
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Content copyright © 2014 by Vannie Ryanes. All rights reserved.
This content was written by Vannie Ryanes. If you wish to use this content in any manner, you need written permission. Contact Vannie Ryanes for details.

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