Dad

I’m aware that biologically, all my readers – not just my brother and sister – have fathers, some living, some deceased.  As my brother has children, he is also a father.  Me?  Not yet – to my knowledge.   This is my tribute to my dad.  Rest in Peace.

Born in Brooklyn, NY, in 1928.  He grew up during the Great Depression.   His first job as a teenager was working in a mortuary.  He was too young to fight in WWII, and by the Korean War he was in the seminary.  He said our grandfather was a chauffeur for the Mayor of NYC.   He went to Bishop Loughlin Memorial High School in Brooklyn.  Strangely, he's the only one of his siblings without a Brooklyn accent.  Moreover, he didn't seem to share my uncles' typical pride in being from Brooklyn.

Priest.  He became a Catholic priest.  In Brooklyn this was a big deal.  Major big shot.  He talked of giving last rites, especially at the scene of grisly auto accidents.   Eventually he transferred to Canada, eh, then to the DC area.  Remarkably, my Mom went to his parish but only recalls seeing him once – at a donut function.

’55 Chevy.   When still a priest, he bought one of the first ’55 Belairs, with the new small block Chevy V8 (nope, not a 327).  It was jet black.  Bad ass.  Unfortunately that was the first year for all of that, so the Chevy engineers hadn’t worked out all the bugs yet, and the dealership gave him a hard time about fixing it.  A car dealer ripping off a PRIEST?  Come on, you really have to be a hardcore scumbag to rip off a priest.  That was it for muscle cars for him.

Dept of Commerce.  At some point in the mid-60s, he decided he wanted out of the priesthood.  He applied for, and received, a release from his vows.  Mind you, he was (and always was) very handsome, so I’m sure his female congregation felt, “what a waste”.  Not only that, I have lots of cousins, most of whom are older than me (all my first cousins are) and some of whom were even baptized by him.  While Dad never expressly confided his reasons for leaving the priesthood, we can speculate with some degree of plausibility that wanting to start a family was probably the #1 reason.  

My Dad met my Mom when they were both working in the Lyndon Johnson White House.  He worked for the Bureau of the Budget, she was the Big Guy’s personal nurse.  [By the way, this business of LBJ whipping out his Johnson was BS, she said.  The worst he’d do was continue a conversation while he was on the toilet, without closing the door.]

His civilian job with the Dept. of Commerce involved tourism and lots of travel.   He brought back lots of cool stuff.  The ultimate perk was getting a position at the US Embassy in Paris, so we moved there in January 1979 and lived there until August 1990.   Needless to say, living in Paris was interesting.  I’ve covered my travels in earlier blogs, here I’ll just give him the richly deserved credit for making those travels possible. 

Hard work.   To say he was hardworking would be an understatement.  I think he deliberately took as much as he could, and felt that anything less than maximum effort was being a lazy bum. 

Sense of humor.   Despite this, he had a strong sense of humor.  Both his brothers, my Uncle Buddy and Uncle Raymond, were also huge jokers.  The one I remember most was his claim whenever we wanted to go somewhere he wasn’t thrilled about taking us, usually Toys R Us:  “didn’t you hear?  There was a huge fire, it all burned down.”  Oddly, none of his jokes ever got dull.

Warmth.   Also very carinhoso, as the Brazilians would say.   Usually hardworking people are dour and serious, with little compassion.  He was as warm as a person could be.  He’d get angry, but not easily, and if you pissed him off you’d really screwed up.

 

Better Call Saul.  I’m proud that I managed to finish law school and pass the bar well before he passed away.  He took immense pride that I was a practicing attorney, representing ordinary people and appearing in court as a trial lawyer.  

Demise.  In December 2004, I was due to meet up with him and my mom around 2 p.m. to work on my apartment.  I had a traffic case that morning, but the client knew he was guilty and I had a reasonable expectation of pleading the case out, as most such cases do, thus I’d be back at home in time to meet up with him.  On this day, the Commonwealth’s Attorney (prosecutor) was late, and although I did successfully plead out the case, I was back to the office by 2 instead of noon.  I called him to tell him that, and he said no big deal, we’d meet up on a different day.

That evening, I was on my way to the gym, when my sister called.  My father had collapsed in the kitchen in our parents’ apartment in Frederick, Maryland.  My brother and I drove with my Mom to the hospital in Hagerstown, Maryland, just about 30 minutes west of Frederick, where we discovered the awful truth:  my dad had a stroke.   This was not the kind where he wakes up half-asleep and can’t use half his body.  This was the kind where your brain explodes from the inside out and you’re effectively brain-dead forever.  He never woke up or regained consciousness.  It was GAME OVER.  And it was sudden, out of the blue.  I’ll never forget it.  

Dad is buried in Arlington National Cemetery, due to my Mom being a former LCDR (Sturmbannfuhrerin) in the US Navy (during Vietnam, not WWII - she's not that old).  My uncle, a former WWII B24 pilot (his older brother) is also buried nearby.   Oddly, his parents' tombstone in the Brooklyn cemetery has his name on it (1928- ) presumably because they purchased the stone when he was still a priest.

Fortunately my Mom is still around, and she’s older now than he was when he died.  We try to take care of her as best we can.  But we’ll never forget Dad.  

New York City

Having blogged about New Jersey and Colorado, I suppose New York City deserves its own blog entry as well.  It’s the US city I’m most familiar with after DC/Baltimore.  My father’s side of the family comes from Brooklyn, though by now they’re all over the place.

 City.  It’s about 4 hours north of the Washington DC area, consisting of Manhattan, Bronx, Queens and Brooklyn.  Staten Island, Long Island, and upper New Jersey are part of the larger NYC metropolitan area.  The city itself has 8 million people, whereas the greater NYC metropolitan area includes 20 million.

            Brief history.  Originally settled by the Dutch, including Peter Minuit’s famous (though false) purchase of Manhattan Island from the Indians for $24.  At that time (1626) it was called New Amsterdam.  It was captured by the British in 1664 and renamed New York.  It was the first capital of the US, before Philadelphia and later Washington, DC. 

            When most people think of NYC, they think of Manhattan, of course.  Notable landmarks:

            Empire State Building.  Built in 1929-30 by Al Smith, featured in “King Kong”, and still surviving today.  I love its Art Deco interior, and the view from the top, both the 86^th floor outside observatory and the 102^nd floor indoor one, is spectacular.

            World Trade Center.  Built in the early 70s, and knocked down on 9/11/01.  We had the good fortune to check out the view from the deck in 1988, but unlike the ESB, which is centrally located at 34^th Street and 5^th Ave., the WTC was down at the southern end of the island, making much of the view not much more than lots of ocean.  Moreover, the observation deck was 20 feet away from the edge of the tower, unlike the ESB where it seemed you were right on the edge.  I preferred the ESB experience.

            Central Park.  Fairly huge, with large, green open spaces.  I never jogged in it or caught any concerts, but I have seen enough of it on various visits to appreciate it.

            Times Square.  As noted in the last blog, I’ve never been there for NYE, but I have been there before – lots of neon, much more impressive at night than the daytime.  I only recall going there on the 1988 trip.

            Grand Central Station.  An impressively large and luxuriously appointed terminal, similar to the Moscow Metro. 

            Penn Station/Madison Square Garden.  We saw AC/DC – fifth row seats! – in August 1988 at MSG, my one and only MSG experience.  The Garden is literally right on top of Penn Station, which serves as the railroad terminal for trains coming from, and going to, Washington’s Union Station; but we never simply came up by train for a concert.

            Greenwich Village.  In the 90s I’d visit here with Ken, scoping out the CD stores for bootlegs; on another night his Coven of Hate crowd went to the Bank (a club).  In June 2001 we caught Nebula at the Mercury Lounge, the last visit I made to NYC before 9/11.  St Mark’s, where the cover of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti album is located, is here.  GW has a very grimy, dirty, rundown look to it, but it’s where the hippies and stoners tend to live.

            Subway.  One of the oldest systems in the world, it opened in 1904, and the world’s largest.  The NYC subway is vast, with several different lines crisscrossing the island and extending into Brooklyn, Queens, etc.  There are high speed express trains, and locals.  I’m not aware of any other system which is operational 24/7.  The PATH train connects Manhattan with New Jersey.  I recall in the 70s, the system used tokens, the cars were dirty and covered in graffiti, and the lights went out fairly often.  My father explained the way the different lines were integrated, but to me the network was baffling.  I prefer the Paris Metro.

            Wall Street.  I went down there in 1988, only to find that the building on Wall Street so often identified as “Wall Street” with the statue of George Washington in front of it, is not the NY Stock Exchange.  The World Trade Center was down in this lower part of Manhattan.

            Coney Island.   Guess what, NYC actually has a beach, with an amusement park and a roller coaster.  My most recent visit was to see Widespread Panic.   I also love the Cyclone.  Maybe one day I'll make it back there.  Not holding my breath, though.

            Mayors.  The mayor of such a large town inevitably becomes a national figure – far more so than mayors of any other city in the US.  Now they have Bloomberg; the mayor of 9/11, Rudy Guliani; LaGuardia; but my favorite is Ed Koch. 

            Other cities have tall buildings, of course (e.g. Paris, Dubai, Chicago – Hong Kong having the most) but none have as many all together, so densely packed.  European cities tend of have architecture of an extremely homogenous nature, especially Paris, where the buildings are the same height and style for blocks on end with few notable exceptions to prove the rule.  DC has a law preventing buildings from exceeding the height of the Washington Monument; and other cities (Baltimore, Phoenix, Richmond, Norfolk) have very small skyscraper districts only a few blocks in depth.  In Manhattan, you look down a street, in any direction, and you see a vast valley, a chasm, between towering walls.  It’s unique.

Long Island.  Often referred to simply as “The Island” (e.g. Ewan McGregor & Scarlet Johannsen).  My father’s family started out in Brooklyn, then moved to various places from there.  Twin sister aunt: Merrick (we visited them several times in the 70s, though now they live in Raleigh-Durham but keep the NY accents).  Younger brother uncle: Babylon, though he would always come to Merrick.  My buddy Dave, who I went to college with, is out on the Island, in Deer Park.  I’ve never been to the Gold Coast, though I’ve read enough about it: The Great Gatsby and two Nelson Demille books.

Coney Island.  In 1988 we visited the beach here during the summer, resulting in two rides on the Cyclone and one very nasty sunburn (just like 1984).  Coney Island dates from the turn of the century, whereas Copacabana and Ipanema, in Rio de Janeiro, were only desolate, uninhabited beaches at that time and only took their current form in the 1940s and 50s.

Bronx.  I've been over to Fordham (main campus) and the Bronx Zoo, but that's about it.

Queens.  The Mandarin Chinatown is in Flushing, which I've been to a few times now, plus the courthouse on Sutphin (?). 

Staten Island.  So far, for me, this has been the island between the Outerbridge Crossing and the Verrazano Bridge.

Early Trips.  When we were kids growing up in the DC area in the 70s, our parents would take us on several trips: NYC, Long Island, Glens Falls (to visit my father’s family); Worcester, Massachusetts (to visit my mom’s family); and Ocean City, Maryland, and King’s Dominion, for our own family vacations.  I remember NYC in the 70s, the highlights of said visits being the Empire State Building and FAO Schwartz, the famous toy store.  We would drive up the Turnpike and stay in fancy hotels in Manhattan.  It’s funny, I never recall any trip in which we went BOTH to Manhattan or Merrick, Long Island, it always seemed to be one or the other, but not both.

1988.  In the summer of 1988 we swapped apartments with a family who had a large place on 96^th and 5^th Avenue, overlooking the upper end of Central Park.  Although I was only there for about 10 days, I was able to do the following:  Empire State Building, World Trade Center, Public Library, subway, Sam Ash, Times Square, Macy’s, AC/DC concert at Madison Square Garden, and Coney Island.

Pizza.  Since pizza is, bar none, my favorite food, I can’t mention NYC without mentioning “New York style” pizza – though I’ve noticed that it’s commonly available in northern New Jersey as well.  This is pizza with wide slices and thin, soft (NOT crispy!) crust.  I have yet to find any place outside that area which successfully duplicates that type of pizza, although there are several which claim to (with pictures of Manhattan and Frank Sinatra on the walls, of course).  Chicago style?  Please – that 2 inch thick monstrosity is better labeled “cheese pie” than pizza.  NY delis are supposedly unique, but for me the pizza is really the only game in town.

Culture.  An argument can be made that NYC is the country’s #1 city – even competing with Chicago and L.A.  I can’t begin to list all the films which take place there, or the TV shows, of which “Seinfeld” and “Sex and the City” are probably the most notable in recent years.  But I don’t care for, or share in, the worship of the city.  I really can’t stand Sinatra’s “New York, New York” song, nor am I into the Broadway scene; I still haven’t seen “Spamalot”, the only musical I would have any interest in.  I don’t even like the New York City songs by AC/DC and The Cult, and I like those bands.  Oddly, KISS, who ARE from NYC, devote their “city song” to Detroit (“Detroit Rock City”).  New Yorkers have their own style and accent – and attitude.  For some reason Brooklyn has its own pride, distinct from the city itself.  John Lennon could have lived anywhere on Earth, yet he and Yoko Ono decided to make NYC their home.  I can appreciate what the city has to offer, but it falls well short of love.

My Cousin Vinny Deer Hunting

An excellent illustration of the classic Brooklyn accent from both Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomei. Of course she misses the point just to make a statement: Vinnie wasn't asking what the DEER would think of his pants, he was asking what the District Attorney would think of them. (Personally, I would have preferred her "voir dire" by the DA - "base timing on '57 Chevy Bel Air with 327 cubic inch V8" but this is what I could find).