“Yet I am not alone as the Father is always with me”.
John 16:32
Some Favorite Memories of Dad and Me
During the past week, I’ve been tapping that USB drive inside my brain that stores all of those cherished moments of me and my Dad. It’s kind of like the feeling I had as a kid every time I walked into Al & Harry’s Confectionary in Ridgewood, NJ. Al & Harry’s was easily the coolest store in town. You could grab a seat at the counter and order a hamburger, fries and a cherry Coke (usually Harry and Sarah would wait on you). Once you finished, you would then go to the magazine rack where all the newspapers and magazines were on display. I had an early fascination with cars so I spent all my time reading Motor Trend, Car & Driver, and those Hot Rod magazines until Al would yell at me. But the hardest part of all was having to choose which of the many great candies to buy with the 50 cents you had left over! Oh, so many choices — would I buy the Nestles Crunch Bar, the Milk Duds, the Dots, maybe even the Good N’ Plenty and you would always have to make sure you’d have enough money left to get some Bazooka bubble gum?
Strike 3, You’re Out Son!
Well choosing which candy to buy at Al & Harry’s is how I feel about having to pick my favorite memories of Dad and me — there’s just so many great ones to choose from. Actually upon reflection, it’s not really that hard of a choice. You see there’s two wonderful moments that always seem to come to my mind whenever I think about this question. The first memory takes place in April 1964. I am playing in the Tiny Tim baseball league as a 9-year old for Fishel’s Bakery (BTW, arguably the best jelly donut ever made by mankind). My Dad would come to my games as often as he could but weeknights were always more problematic for him than the Saturday games. Well, wouldn’t you know that for this weeknight game, Dad just happened to come to the game and when the regular umpire didn’t show up, the Managers of both teams asked Dad to be the umpire.
My Dad was a phenomenal shortstop growing up in Brooklyn, NY and would have played in the major leagues if not for WWII. Dennis, Matt and I loved playing catch with Dad in our backyard as he would teach us how to field, how to throw a curve, even a knuckleball. Umpires back in those days would stand behind the pitcher’s mound so when I walked up to the plate that night, it was rather strange seeing your Dad calling balls and strikes. Well, truth be told, the count was 2 balls and 2 strikes. I am sure my teammates were probably chanting what they always said whenever I came to bat since I wasn’t a very good hitter — “A walk is a good as a hit. A walk is a good as a hit”. I dug in and waited for that next pitch. The pitcher wound up and threw the next pitch right down the middle and I didn’t even swing at it. But hey, even as a 9-year old kid, I thought my Dad would give me a break and never call his own son out on strikes. I mean, come on! Sure enough, I immediately heard Dad’s voice “Strike 3, You’re Out”! Well that was awfully embarrassing to have your Dad call you out on strikes, but I also put on a little tantrum complaining all the way back to the dugout which made it even worse. As I grew older, Dad and I would always share a good laugh about that night and I can still see that moment vividly every time I drive past the GW baseball field.
My Bill Buckner Moment
Fast forward to another incredible moment of me and my Dad, one that also involves baseball, only now it’s late May 1967. I am playing center field for my Little League team, Homestead Roofing, and it’s the championship game. Back then we only played 6 innings. We were the visiting team that day and so we entered the bottom of the 6th inning with a 2-1 lead. There’s one out and a runner on first base and Joey Cauda comes to the plate. Joey was a great ballplayer and his Dad was the Manager for his team and one of the nicest Dads any of us knew growing up. We had beaten Joey’s team once before in the regular season even though they had some great players like Bill Jones and my good friend from Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Tom O’Connor. All we needed to do was get 2 more outs and we would be Little League champions. Joey then lined a clean single to center field. I charged in from center field but overran the ball as it scooted through my legs. I had not committed an error all season or even the prior season but this was a big E as they say. It was my own Bill Buckner moment. As I ran after the ball, the runner from first base scored to tie the score at 2-2 but by the time I retrieved the ball and threw it back to the infield, Joey had already rounded the bases and scored the winning run.
I had lost the game and the championship for my team. It was a quiet half mile walk home from Vets Field that early Saturday afternoon – just me and my Dad. I can remember that walk like it was yesterday. As we walked up the driveway and entered the kitchen, Dad said to me “How about a Lettuce & Tomato sandwich and a Coke?” Dad knew that was my all-time favorite sandwich and drink. We sat together at the kitchen table and I must say that within a few short minutes, all was well again for a 12-year old boy whose miscue in the field had cost his team the Little League championship. A Dad and his son together as it should be.
As the years go by, the memories get even stronger for me and it’s usually the little things that will remind me of my Dad — the barbecues in our backyard; the smell of the fresh perked coffee Dad would always make us in the morning; the Sunday feast of roast beef or pot roast; Dad’s homemade recipes for tomato sauce and salad dressing; the comforting image of my Dad sitting quietly in the stands at Paramus Catholic watching me play basketball; and those special moments in his later years at the house in Hohokus. Sometimes, I’ll see someone in town or on the boardwalk who bears a striking resemblance to Dad and it’s a surreal feeling. Or, maybe it’s a song on one of my playlists that will bring me right back to a special moment with Dad. How lucky amI to have had my Dad in this life for 56 years before God called him home.
Happy Heavenly Father’s Day Dad. You were the best Dad then, you are the best Dad now, and you will always be the best Dad to me. Save a spot in heaven for me. Love always, Jackie
