Happy Birthday Dad.

Dad's Birthday

Today is my father's 90th birthday. Happy Birthday Dad.If he were alive, he would have been 90 years. That's a long time.

I lost him and my Mom almost twenty and ten years ago, respectively. There isn't a day that goes by I don't miss her and him, though he was somewhat abusive and she stood by him and did nothing to protect us. Spare the rod spoil the child. My kids, her grandsons, and grand daughters, that I know of, hear me talk about her and him all the time. "Your grandfather or grandmother, who's not here anymore, would be so proud of you." Things like that.

They've seen plenty of pictures of them but never met them. Except for maybe once in passing while on their deathbeds.

Now my daughter is a different story.  I have photographs of her and her grandmother but she was a little girl in them. You know how it goes with grandparents, sometimes you barely remember them. But she knows my Dad well and my twins know Pop Pop well too.

I don't remember my grandparents, I believe I never met my grandfather, but I lived with my great-grandmother and grand mother for the first 10 years of my life. They both died at 93 years old.

When people look at or remember pop today they see something different than what I see. They see a nice old man, I see the man who was the most important person in my life for about 10 years. Someone who had a huge part in shaping who I am today.

Too much? Don't think so.

Dad's father, my grandfather, died when he was four months old. He never knew him. His mother raised him and then she passed when he was just 14. Imagine having no parents in the 40's. Now throw in being moreno, mulatto or black and as they say there you go. When something like that happens it's easy to understand how someone could go over to the dark side but my father never did.


May the force be with those that do.

He was special.

He had his own radio show at 16, one where he sang, see Dad always had this great singing voice. He went to Coimbra University in Lisbon Portugal on a full ride and starred in many operas there.

Here's a story I've never told before.

After my mother's funeral Dad and I were at the house going through boxes and came upon his old college yearbook.

At the time I was at the tail end of me being on one secret project or another for dear old Uncle Sam and was about to work with other more well known colleagues. Dad leafed through the pages, stopped on one, pointed, and said, "The president of our class was Richard, Bryant's father." I was shell shocked, I didn't know that. And then he turned a few more pages and there he was and he casually said, "And I was the star of the class."
I didn't know that either.

Okay the memories are too many to mention but here are a few.

What kids don't know but parents do is that it's harder to be a parent than a kid. My father thought it was his job to prepare us for the cold world. We had to speak correctly and had to say please and thank you, yes m'am and no sir. Sound trite? Those things have gotten me further in life than just about anything. When he called to us we answered with, "Yes sir."

Had to and boy it payed off.

He was an officer in the CV African Air Force, we were stationed in Portugal twice and he retired as a Lt. Colonel or Leftenant Colonel. We had moved to Maryland and you would think I'd be a Baltimore guy. You'd be wrong. Dad's next job was in Washington so I grew up reading The Washington Post and was a Redskins and Senators fan.

Music? I never could sing that well but I had 9 years as a rock and roll disc jockey in big markets-Baltimore, Detroit, Chicago, New York. To this day I know my tunes and although it's not opera it's still music. That's the influence of my Dad.

The college of musical knowledge.

One of my memories is funny. He had come to Detroit to visit and we went to a mall to do some shopping. In one of the stores I reached up to get something and he said, "Uh oh." Let's just say his son was, ahem, odoriferous. When he told me I was mad and upset. "But Dad," I said, "I use Right Guard everyday." "You need something stronger." He gently steered me towards Mitchum deodorant and the problem was solved.

Thanks Pop.

When I got on television he told everybody.  He was so proud of me then and still is today. Afterwards I suffered a massive stroke. Being a stroke survivor is a hard thing but he sure has made it easier with his loving understanding, his loving advice, and his so called, loving attaboys. Thats' okay, I learned early on not to expect that type of praise.

He was now in an Assisted Living home, first in Evergreen Seekonk MA, then moved him to Central Fla. I see him as often as I can but it's hard when you live in Florida and he's in Massachusetts.

I talk to him on the phone almost every day and one more funny thing. He now suffers from Alzheimer's and since I repeat myself and sometimes ramble on, we're a match made in heaven. I can tell him stuff I told him yesterday and it's as if he's hearing it for the first time, that is when he was alive.

But here's the thing.

When we talk the clouds move aside and the sun comes out and he's my Dad again. And I am the son sitting at his father's knee.

Talk about heaven.

They say that memories sweeten through the ages just like wine. So has my love for him.

Today is my father's 90th birthday, if he was alive.

Happy Birthday Dad. (My mom's B'day is next month)