Reflections: Talking To My Dad
I talk to my Dad a lot, even though he’s been dead for 54 years. I still talk to him nearly every day. It’s definitely not a prayer, not even a conversation. It’s more like a series of observations that I share verbally and non-verbally with him about almost everything. Some are truly the most mundane things… at least to me. You know, the increased traffic in the small town we live in, the price of a new car or house, that sort of thing. It’s not political, it’s not religious it’s just….. stuff.
"Hey Dad, you wouldn’t believe it, you know that old 1935 delivery van you used to drive? Well, they call them SUV’s today and everyone has one." That sort of thing.
My Dad (Charlie) was born in 1910, I think it’s safe to say that he was born in a different era. Hell, he was born in a different era, it even has a name… “Edwardian”; my father was born in the Edwardian Era (1901-1910). He grew up at the end of the horse and buggy era. His father had a horse drawn Fuller Brush route if any one knows what that was. He was five years old at the beginning of WWI (the war to end all wars ). He was 19 years old when we entered the Great Depression. He was 35, married with two of his five children at the start of WWII. And by the time he passed, he had lived through the Korean War, the start of the Cold War, the Vietnam War, the Kennedy and King assassinations, and a host of inventions.
He had listened to classical music on a phonograph, played big band music on 78’s, heard the first country singers on the radio, he listen to rock and roll on 45 rpm records, and broadway overtures on 33 LP albums, and shrugged as his children listened to the Beatles on cassette tapes.
He saw the invention of the talking motion picture show, the phonograph, television, tape recorders, the dictaphone, air conditioning, power steering, automatic transmissions, the jet aircraft, and the computer. By the time he passed on January 1, 1970 he had seen a lot…but not nearly enough, and that’s why I’m compelled to share every day observations with him.
Some of our conversations evolve from monumental events; I remember sharing my impressions of the end of the Vietnam War in April of 1975 and other events not so monumental like my new microwave oven. There have been tons of conversations about little things and big things, life and death, and kids and pets. Anything that I think might amuse him or amaze him.
I’ve thought about it a lot, do I do it for him or do I do it for me? Because of my belief system I know the answer. It’s definitely for me. It’s my way to maintain my connection with a guy I knew too little and who passed too soon. I miss him a lot.
