Tribute to Dad

1/21/21

Yesterday was a whipsaw day of great joy mixed with profound sadness for me.

It started out with the Nation's Con Man huffing laboriously up the stairway, leading to the open hatch on Air Force One at Joint Base Andrews. Stopping briefly, he turned around and gave a subdued wave to the small crowd below, composed of roughly 99% thinking they'd MUCH rather be somewhere else at the moment, and the roughly 1% who are his diehard supporters, the type who would consider tripping over a root and falling face-flat in a pile of horsepucky to be a wonderful experience. The leering orange-tinted face, with the mouth that at times looks curiously like an anus, was subdued, with a look of a grifter who, from writing a veritable Encyclopedia Brittanica of swindles in his storied life, had just seen his greatest grift of all blow up in his face like a egg and hamberder sandwich left too long in the microwave. Beside him, his wife flashed her permanent scowl of cruelty for one last time as “first lady”. They turned, and, at long last delivering on her “BeBest” promise: slinking into the maw of Air Force One for one last time ... and out of our lives ... hopefully forever.

The day began to take a positive direction when Mara and I turned on the Inaugural festivities, and watched with eyes moist as honest leadership and dignity were restored to the seat of our government, and numerous performers and dignitaries regaled us with songs and words of wisdom and kindness, which had been missing in the last four long and depressing years. The soaring performance of Lady Gaga singing the National Anthem, of young Amanda Gorman reciting her poem about the future, and the hope filled speech of Joe Biden, were such a breath of fresh air after years of hate speeches and tweets, and created a sense of relief at the return of good and honest government.

Alas, it seems that joy is only a fleeting gift in this life. In the late afternoon, Jan returned home from school and told me my Dad had passed away back in Maryland from complications arising from his recent bout with Covid. Although he survived the virus, he was weakened by a subsequent urinary tract infection. He suffered the same cruelty as others from this relentless foe; deprived of the presence of his loved ones in his hour of greatest need to be with them. None of us were able to give him a proper goodbye, or hold his hand and tell him that we love him. Born in the presidency of one of the worst presidents, Warren Harding, he exited this life a few hours into our deliverance from an even worse one. Though it's a small comfort, I'm grateful that he was able to live long enough to see democracy restored.

I'm not a religious man, so I don't expect to reunite with him on some puffy cloud when my time comes. I am left with only a rich tapestry of experiences with him, painted in memory, which I will write down in hopes that his life is not lost entirely to the sands of time. Goodbye, Dad! … I won't be able to talk with you every other day on the phone anymore. Those conversations were mostly the same every time: you inquiring about Jan and the kids, ever concerned that everyone was staying healthy and safe during the pandemic. We'd exchange descriptions of the weather; with you perpetually worried about drought, no doubt resulting from living through the Dust Bowl period in Texas as a boy. You never forgot the birthdays of your children and family members, all of the way back to your great great grandson Killian. Though the conversations were seldom varied in these last couple of years, I never got tired of these opportunities to talk to you, and I will miss hearing your voice so much.

Through all of life's hardships and joys, I never stopped loving you, Dad. I will think of you every day, and you will live on in my heart for my remaining time on this beautiful Planet Earth.