The "Remembering My Dad" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Father's Day!  My dad died six years ago, but I still think of him often.  Every summer when Carol and I head to the shore on vacation I think of all the great vacations that my mom and dad took my brother and I on when we were young.  Never missed a summer, since vacation was an important part of our family.  

My dad was in the service when I
was born.  He made it back in time
for my birth.  Here we are in front
of my mom's childhood home on
South Prince Street where she and
I lived until dad got out of the service.

Mom and dad would sacrifice what ever was necessary in order to make sure we had a vacation together.  I remember heading to the Jersey shore as a young boy.  On one such vacation, at the age of 12, I asked my dad if I could go deep-sea fishing.  Even though he didn't want to go himself, he made arrangements for me to go.  I spent most of the fishing trip laying on a bench and throwing up, but I still remember my dad allowing me to give it a try.  Some summers we would spend a week along the Chesapeake Bay at my Aunt's house.  Dad and I spent hour after hour fishing off the dock together.  He even sat in the car, after he had packed for our return home, waiting for me to catch my 100th fish of the week.  Funny how you remember some of the dumbest things, isn't it?  When I turned 12 I asked dad if I could play organized baseball.  He began searching for a team that I could join.  One evening he found a clipping in the sports section telling of tryouts the following Saturday at Williamson's Park in the south end of the city.  Wasn't long before I was the 1st baseman for the Schick midget-midget team.  Dad would drive me to practice a few times a week and attend all the games I played.  

 Dad sitting with me sitting on the dock by the bay with my
fishing pole.  We had a great time that summer spending
most of our time fishing.  Not quite sure why I have my feet
in the bucket, but there must have been a good reason
why I had them in it.

When I turned 16 I asked my dad if I could buy a car.  Wasn't long before a 1953 Henry J was towed into the alley behind our house on North Queen Street.  The maroon colored car belonged to my mom's aunt who lived in Annapolis.  Car wouldn't run anymore and they offered it to dad for $75.  I paid him the money from my savings I had from raising and selling guinea pigs.  He had never worked on a car before, but the two of us went to the junk yard and bought a used starter and figured how to install it.  Another thing I did with my dad that I'll never forget.  Later in our lives we both were members of the St. James men's choir.  Sat next to each other in the choir stalls in church and even sang a few duets together.  Dad had a fantastic voice and was the featured soloist for the Barbershop Chorus he belonged to.  When Carol and I got married he sang the Lord's Prayer at the wedding.  Also sang it when our oldest son was married as well as at our daughter's wedding.  When dad died I made sure that a recording of the Lord's Prayer, sung by him, was played.  I'm sure he heard it!  Some dads are good, but my dad was great!  Happy Father's Day, dad!!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.