My dad
10/6/1937 - 11/10/2024
A couple of years ago I showed a new friend of mine a picture I took of my dad. He took one look and said “oh my god, you are your father’s daughter.” I told him that was the biggest compliment you could give me - and it still is. I realized later that picture was dad in a sun hat and gardening sleeves and gloves and it might have been nicer to be compared to dad in one of more fashionable states.
My brother and I grew up on one street for essentially our entire childhoods, everyone knew everyone and we all played together. [s/o to my brother’s best friend, from one block away] Dad was the fun dad of the street, playing 16” softball and kick the can and letting everyone climb all over him. Dad was a kid whisperer, thrilled to have 3 grandsons and now, twin great grand daughters with a third on the way.
He was even better with dogs. There has never been a dog who didn’t love dad. My own dog is 12 ½ and perhaps the laziest dog to have ever dogged - his favorite activities are napping and preparing to nap. However, any time I asked Ted “do you want to go to grandpa’s” he would run for the door. When we turned from Skokie onto Wilmette, Ted knew we were close, and would climb onto my left shoulder to be closer to dad when I opened the door to the car. Every time I left the house, dad always walked me and Ted to the car, and got slobbered all over for his troubles.
Dad was the least complain-y, if that’s a word, person that I have ever met. It didn’t matter what happened, or how much work something was, or how long the lines were at Disney World with at least one of us probably whining, Dad didn’t complain. The hospital kept telling us how nice and charming he was. This held true for food too, his own or what we made him buy us. The quickest way to horrify dad, if you wanted to, was to send back food. I’m pretty sure that even if they sent him a plastic model of food, he wouldn’t have complained. And as much as he loved food, and had great taste, he didn’t complain about what we got. We grew up going to Bob Chinn’s. Dad got shrimp scampi, Andrew got scallops, and I got cheese pizza. In high school i graduated to NY strip, well done. I even once ordered an entire whole crab. You can imagine how well that went for my first seafood. Dad never said a word.
We bought some bulbs together a couple of years ago, to enhance his gorgeous yard and to hope for my little patio garden. We planted super late, the bulbs came late, I planted them all myself and not a damn one grew. I really didn’t want to disappoint dad, and he just laughed and said maybe next year. What a great attitude.
As I said, i’ve been told I am my father’s daughter. It’s true. I adore my dad. Learned a ton - from dad I learned to love country music, beautiful women, fast cars and a great steak. Right after I graduated from college, i bought a 1965 Mustang. [no, I’m not that old] Somehow I got it home and then had to have Dad teach me how to drive a 3 speed manual. He did, and he was the only person I let drive that gorgeous car. Dad loved cars and always missed his Austin Healy that was stolen in the 60s. I got my first Miata in 1993, Dad and Vera got one a few years ago and I got my third in 2021 when I moved home. There is very little more fun than a great drive in a fantastic car.
Dad and I were able to do some road trips - and I’d do anything to do take one again. When my brother was in school in New York, for some reason Dad and I drove out there alone. While he was in the hospital dad and I reminisced a ton, including exit 30 on the NY Thruway, where we stopped in Friendlys in Herkimer for lunch.
He had a great sense of humor, slightly wicked and super cerebral. He would get this twinkle in his eyes when he loved a joke, and that beautiful smile! Dad was having memory problems in the hospital and didn’t necessariily know our names. I wanted to relieve any stress I could, and see that smile, so I had this shirt made. He read it out loud, “I’m Suzanne, I’m your favorite”, and responded with “Oh, is that so?” with that twinkle.
In April 2021 I came back to Chicago to visit my mom for a couple of months. And here we are now. After we lost my mom, I told Dad I would stay in Chicago as long as he was here - if Dad and Vera moved to Florida, they were on their own. I’ve spent my life moving ever 2 or 3 years, so this was a pretty big commitment for me. Now, 3 ½ years later, I’d give anything to “have” to stay here longer for dad.
Last year I came across a lego set of a Japanese tea house and garden. Dad and I had a new hobby. Every week I’d go to the house and we would work assiduously to make the best lego ever. This was my first lego experience, so maybe everyone gets little tiny tupperwares for the pieces, but it was an epic Dad move nonetheless. We were working on a Botanical garden most recently, even though we both agreed it was awful, dad is not a quitter.
Dad’s birthday was October 6, and we had a fantastic day - Homer’s ice cream and all. My birthday is October 12, so we had reservations for our favorite birthday dinner at the Barn. He wasn’t feeling well, so we postponed, or so we thought. Dad was super bummed to miss this dinner, so while he was in the hospital, we read the menu and planned for our upcoming super dinner. I know i owe Dad a dinner at the Barn, but my brother may recall that Dad promised us ice cream sundaes at Mayberry’s and it closed, so I feel like Dad might call this one a wash.
For a while I went to grad school in Texas, where I would encounter Texas sized bugs. I remember vividly calling dad in tears - I had found the world’s biggest cockroach in my bathtub. I killed it before I called him, I just wanted comfort. Dad replied to me “this is great! You’ve killed the world’s biggest cockroach, so you’ll never see the biggest one again.” He had me there.
I know that there are a lot of fathers here, and perhaps aspiring fathers. I’m sure there is a lot of pressure to be a great dad, but I have to tell you, it’s OK, you can relax a little bit. I already had the world’s greatest dad, so you don’t need to try so hard.