Fathers and daughters…
I roll my eyes as my dad starts to talk about those 4+ hour trips we used to take to Massachusetts back to boarding school…again. He would always drive me, solo, or with friends from the city who needed a ride back to school. At one point, I could tell how far away we were from school by the city we were in. We would start the trip in Manhattan, then drive through Westchester. Westchester to Stamford (1st hour), Stamford to New Haven (2nd hour), New Haven to Hartford (3rd hour), Hartford to Springfield (45 Minutes), by Springfield we were only 45 minutes from school, with Holyoke indicating the home stretch. It was during that home stretch that I would get that pang in my stomach. It wasn’t necessarily a bad pang or a good pang, but that pang of knowing you are close to your destination, and would have to say goodbye again. I never thought of what those long rides back to the city must have been like for my dad. As an adult, I get the sense that there was a little bit of guilt and sadness of leaving your teenage daughter in the country to be raised by someone else. For me it was always a choice I made for a better…different…I don’t know. Things were so confusing back then.
On those long rides we would always listen to the radio. By year four, we would hear the strain of our favorite station in New York, and then change to our favorite station in this part of Connecticut until we heard that station start to struggle to keep with us to the next city. My dad would put up with whatever hip-hop, rock, grunge music that I was listening to that semester, and I would listen to whatever Whispers, Isley’s, Spinners jam he wanted to listen to. I always credit my dad with my love of music. Most of my memories of my dad in the house before my parents separated involved music…a record blasting at a teenager’s decibel level, and me dancing with my father to She Used to be my Girl by The O’Jays.
I remember on one of those long rides back to school, we had the radio on as always and this song came on. It wasn’t R&B or Motown or anything, but a folk song. I remember him telling me to hush and listen to words as he turned the volume up:”My child arrived just the other day, he came into the world in the usual way…” it was Harry Chapin’s Cats in the Cradle, and we sat quietly as that song played to the very end. To this day, I love that song (yes, I know I am in the minority here), and every time I hear it I think of those moments driving along the highway through Westchester, Connecticut, and then Massachusetts, listening to the radio and talking to my dad about probably everything and nothing.
Yes, I know I know I am not the only that thinks of their dad when they listen to that song… its a song about dads. BUT does everyone have THAT moment with their dad when this song comes on about dads? I shrug my shoulders and say its possible…but its a good story.
So today on Father’s Day, I started to think about some of the things that my dad gave me…and here they are (in no particular order):
1) A love of music
2) An awesome sense of humor
3) The gift of sarcasm
4) Late graying hair (knock on wood)
5) Rhythm (sorry mom)
6) A love of shopping
7) College Tuition
8) The ability to play sports..badly, but play nonetheless
9) Love & Support
10)Constant need to debate everything
11) The feeling of always thinking I am right
12) The need to be right
13) Depression
14) A potentially troubling love of wine
15) The ability to be a little mean (don’t know if 14 & 15 go hand-and-hand)
16) A surprise second sister
17) The ability to hold a grudge
18) The ability to laugh…eventually
19) A great sense of humor…again
20) Great memories
21) A desire for him to be a grandpa…to not just dogs
Happy Father’s Day to my dad…driver of many hours, father of daughters.
I love ya!
