Father’s day

[fbhjr]

It was 99 years ago today my father was born in “Underhill Flats” Vermont.
His birth records actually say Jericho Vermont. But, the town line ran
down the street on which his parents lived and I guess there was some
debate on which side of the street they lived. (Even today the two towns
share a fire department as they are so close together.) Either way it was
on the flats along the side of the river.
I don’t know what time of day he was born. I know it was night. Part of
me has wondered if it was really April 1st he was born and his father
didn’t want his son born on April Fool’s day so put down the day before on
the birth certificate.
As my grandfather was the doctor who delivered my father he could have done
that. But, it could have been the previous night too. Don’t know.

Living here in the 21st century with my iPhone, iPad and hybrid car it is
sometimes a bit strange for me to think that when my father was young his
father made his rounds on horse or by horse drawn vehicles.
My father met soldiers who had fought in the American Civil War. His
memories of them were they were mad they weren’t allowed in the Veteran of
Foreign Wars hall like the folks from the Spanish American War, or the
first World War.

He heard the Orson Wells War of the World broadcast and for a little while
was fooled into thinking Martians were invading. (He says he caught on
when they said there was a radio reporter in the cockpit of the bomber
attacking the Martians. He said there was no way the pilot would be willing
to give an interview during a bombing run.)

He saw the first King Kong movie in the theaters while taking a young woman
on a date. Apparently they were very impressed with the special effects.

He and I didn’t really get along very well. Our priorities and outlooks on
life were just too far apart. I’m sure some of that is the almost double
generation gap between us as he was 48 when I was born.
But, there was a lot more to it that that as well.

I’ve often wondered what it would have been like to know the younger him,
instead of the older one I knew.
Perhaps we’d have gotten along better.

But, in the 13 ½ years since he’s died I have never felt that the issue was
on my end. I did my best to make and keep that connection with him. But,
he was not willing to do the same.
Which is why my sister didn’t talk with him for the last 7 years of his
life, and I practically didn’t for the last 4 of them.
I regret the events, but not my part in them.

It’s been 10 years since I was up to visit his grave. Maybe sometime this
summer…

Comments

[fbhjr.livejournal.com]

Yes, 1915. And, his sister in 1916. I never had any trouble making a good connection with his sister. That's part of the reason I put it more on him than the generation gap.