Dad @ 100

Today is my Dad's birthday. He was born 100 years ago on November 20th 1922. It's hard to describe how much you miss someone who's been gone from your life for over 52 years. That's longer than he was alive. He died from that ruptured brain aneurysm family curse in July 1970 when he was 47 years old. I was 18.

Dad never got to attend any of his children's weddings or to meet any of his grandchildren. He was still driving that old 1955 green Chevy back and forth to work in 1970. He tried to teach me to drive with that car but I couldn't get used to that weird standard transmission with a clutch that was worn down to his particular everyday custom way of shifting those worn gears. So instead he took me out in the big family 1965 Chevy Impala station wagon. Then he had me take the AAA driving course so I could get the discount on my car insurance but I learned to drive when I was 17 and he helped me get my first car... a 1960 Chevy. I guess he had a thing about Chevys.  Later in 1973 I bought a Chevy Vega but that's another story.

I was fortunate to have spent time with him not knowing how little time we actually had. When I was 16 he got me a summer job at the machine shop where he was the shop foreman. I worked there summers and weekends for two years right up until I went into the Navy. I got to see another side of my father and how he interacted with the guys who worked in the plant. There were about 30 men working there and I was the youngest. I initially did a lot of cleanup and then some quality control. Towards the end after I graduated from high school I operated drill presses and lathes. I got to hear my Dad tell some off color jokes in the locker room which was something new to me although I never heard him swear and curse either at work or at home.

So today he would have one hundred years old. Well, he probably would not have lived this long but two of his brothers that didn't die early of aneurysms made it into their 90's and Uncle Jack is still going strong. If Dad had made it into his 90's then he would have known his grandchildren and some of his great-grandchildren too. 

I can still see his face the last time I saw him. Him and Mom saw me off at the airport in Philly when I left for the Naval Base at Great Lakes after being home for two weeks following completing boot camp in San Diego. I waved to them up in the window looking down at me as I climbed the steps to the plane. The next time I saw him was at his funeral.

We never did get to have a beer together sitting in a bar which we talked about doing when I would come home sometime on leave after turning 21. 

I wrote more about my Dad here.