“What are you doing?” I said to my dad in total disbelief.
We were talking outside his home, and out of nowhere, he had come to a complete stop, snapped to attention and saluted the volunteer patrol car as it made its daily rounds around his Florida senior community.
“They’re pretend cops,” he said with his smile. “I figured I would give them a pretend salute.”
That was my dad. He’s gone now but (as always) I think of him; especially with Father’s Day occurring this month.
In his own way, my dad taught me about life, love and the meaning of family. He was my hero and there surely can be no higher tribute or compliment in honoring a person than to try and imitate him.
Simply stated, my dad lived for and loved his family and our family lived for and loved him right back. How’s that for a role model?
Growing up in the Bronx, he taught me to how to swing a bat and always use 2 hands with my Stan Musial baseball glove when catching. He was my Little League coach and I cannot imagine a better childhood memory.
He made me appreciate that whether going to Shea Stadium to see the Mets or watching them on TV, the best seats of the house were always those when I sat next to him.
He taught me kindness, respect and that there were those certain words – certain expressions that couldbe said only during a football game when his (and now my) New York Giants were playing.
My dad made it very clear that such language, while highly offensive was allowed – if not mandated when our team screwed up. And believe me, while growing up (and even to this day) they screwed up a lot.
Such “tradition” has passed on to a new generation – my four sons. I cannot begin to describe the look on her face and how horrified my Rana was when she first heard, and then realized, that such choice of phrases among this publisher and his “children” was not only tolerated but expected.
While it may not have been some Norman Rockwell “father-son” (and also grandsons) portrait, I ask you: Where else in the world would any son/grandson want to be on a Sunday afternoon?
My dad also showed me how to be a loving, caring husband and he proudly did so by example. And while I have written (more than) a good deal about my failings, shortcomings, and downright stupidity, my PILL (partner in love & life) cannot ever fault me to my devotion and respect that I always had and have for her.
Perhaps you can now understand Rana’s consternation when our Sun City’s community patrol car drove by when we were unpacking groceries from our driveway last month. While in mid-sentence and with a tear in my eye, but a smile on my face, I placed the bundles on the ground, stood tall and saluted the patrol car.
“Like father, like son,” she said as she shook her head. It was the nicest thing she ever said about me.
***To Our Readers: With equal amounts of trepidation and childlike joy, as a heads-up, for the first time in our history, The Vegas Voice is going to combine our July/August editions into a summer one.
Like a school kid counting down the days to summer vacation, Vegas Voice President and my PILL (partner in love & life) Rana and this publisher is looking forward to an extended vacation or even a “time out” without checking our emails10 times a day.
We still don’t know “where” but that’s another story to be worked out.
The “trepidation”? The last thing we want to do is to confuse readers (and our cherished advertisers) as to false rumors of our demise or shut-down. We had enough trouble with our mailing service last year as readers expressed (and thank you for that!) concern that we took early retirement.
Let me be clear – we are merely combining July and August into a Summer issue. We will definitely be back to “business as usual” starting with our September issue and even have some (we think) great ideas and features to introduce.
And most importantly, we hope you enjoy the Summer as much as we will.
