my dad..

my dad was a telephone I&R man (installation and repair). he was the guy who came to your house to repair basically anything that went wrong with your telephone.. inside the house or out. he worked long hours. he worked in an industry that was constantly changing and constantly in upheaval. the job was both physically and mentally draining.. and he was good at it.  he loved his job.

1972 - 1999
in '72 he worked on open wire party lines and crank phones. people resisted change. they updated to aerial lines and buried cable and clunky old rotary phones. and then, finally, they sent him to school for fiberoptics. the technology changed and my dad took it in stride. he took pride in his work.   his was a blue collar job.. he could have half-assed.. but instead, he made sure each job was done right. he says his work was a challenge, because each job was a different situation. he had to be a detective and problem solve.  he taught me work ethic.

i remember my 8th grade year in school.. because that was the year my dad thought he was going to lose his job. that was the year they de-regulated and busted up the ma bell monopoly.. and the telephone industry was ushered into a whole new era of technological change. but he didnt lose his job. he took a better, more stable job a couple towns over, which demanded more hours of overtime but made things more manageable financially. that was the year he got sick with CMV virus, Hystoplasmosis, and Mononucleosis all at once. i remember he didnt get off the couch for 2 weeks straight.. and he quit smoking.   he worked until july of 1999 when he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and ended up in the ICU for a month. he had stopped taking his blood pressure meds...   my dad is a walking miracle.

my dad's a smart man.  an intellectual.  instilled a love of words in us.  he was a stickler for correct pronunciation and usage of words.  i would say he was fairly knowledgeable about a lot of different things.  he was well read.  he knew enough about any topic to contribute to conversation.  he was inquisitive and introspective.  i could always talk to him.  his presence in my life was heroic in nature.  both my parents were my heros.  they were perfect.

my dad didnt want my mom to work. she complied. they struggled financially when we were little. but we never knew it. we had clothes on our backs, food in our mouths, a roof over our heads.. and love. it never occurred to us to play one parent against the other when we wanted something.. because they were always of one mind. 

he is the reason i sing.  i tell him this.  he is humble, and disbelieving.  each night, he would swing one of the 3 of us up onto his shoulders, hop up the stairs with the others close behind, plop us in bed.. my sister at his side.. and sing.  sometimes he would read a book.  but there was always song.  beautiful brown eyes (the words changed to blue), if i had a hammer, elijah rock, you'll never walk alone, amazing grace, scarlet ribbons.. we sang a lot.  we sang on the front porch during heat storms.. serenading the entire neighborhood.  we sang in the garden.  we sang in harmony around the kitchen table the day of grandpa's funeral. 

if i close my eyes.. i can see him younger... my age. i can see him in his tan shirt and brown work pants, keys and change jingling in his pocket, tromping in his work boots.. taking a few minutes to play a little ball with us before the last bit of daylight is lost. i can see him behind the troybilt, cigarette dangling from his lip, tilling up and down row after row of our 2 acre garden. i remember jumping in his footsteps.. feet turned out like a duck.   i can remember sitting at the dinner table and asking if the vegetables came from our garden.. or asking him a simple question, seeing the twinkle of mischief, and all 3 of us turning to look at ma.. my sister asking 'is that right ma?'.. dad just laughing.   my brother and i have his nose, and that twinkle.. i pass a mirror and i see him out the corner of my eye.

now my dad sits in his easy chair all day watching television.  he talks about working on the old truck my brother conned him into buying.. or the garden he is planning this year.. or ma.  his ongoing war with the moles in his yard amuses me to no end.. i call him elmer, and then i hear a little smile in his voice.

i miss his smile. he doesnt laugh much anymore. the twinkle is gone.