What is your fondest memory of your father?

Back in 1981 my dad's mother died. She had willed me her 1964 Impala so my dad and I flew into Dallas and drove down to his hometown of Clifton Texas to pick up the car. We then drove the car back to Phoenix. It was a 2 day road trip. My dad and I had not been getting a long at this time. I was just getting out of my teen years so.....

I learned a lot about my dad on that road trip. Things I still haven't shared with anyone else. After the road trip we became friends and for the past 43 years he was one of my best friends.

His body gave up with his struggles with dementia a week ago last Wednesday so this is the first Father's Day that he has not been around. I am a little sad but overall I am relieved that he is no longer suffering from that condition. Today I celebrate his life and I am appreciating how much time I was able to spend with him before dementia invaded his world.
 
MarkinPhx said:
Back in 1981 my dad's mother died. She had willed me her 1964 Impala so my dad and I flew into Dallas and drove down to his hometown of Clifton Texas to pick up the car. We then drove the car back to Phoenix. It was a 2 day road trip. My dad and I had not been getting a long at this time. I was just getting out of my teen years so.....

I learned a lot about my dad on that road trip. Things I still haven't shared with anyone else. After the road trip we became friends and for the past 43 years he was one of my best friends.

His body gave up with his struggles with dementia a week ago last Wednesday so this is the first Father's Day that he has not been around. I am a little sad but overall I am relieved that he is no longer suffering from that condition. Today I celebrate his life and I am appreciating how much time I was able to spend with him before dementia invaded his world.
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I'm sorry you lost this father who became became your best friend @MarkinPhx, I'm also happy you made your peace so early. 🌹
 
MarkinPhx said:
Back in 1981 my dad's mother died. She had willed me her 1964 Impala so my dad and I flew into Dallas and drove down to his hometown of Clifton Texas to pick up the car. We then drove the car back to Phoenix. It was a 2 day road trip. My dad and I had not been getting a long at this time. I was just getting out of my teen years so.....

I learned a lot about my dad on that road trip. Things I still haven't shared with anyone else. After the road trip we became friends and for the past 43 years he was one of my best friends.

His body gave up with his struggles with dementia a week ago last Wednesday so this is the first Father's Day that he has not been around. I am a little sad but overall I am relieved that he is no longer suffering from that condition. Today I celebrate his life and I am appreciating how much time I was able to spend with him before dementia invaded his world.
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Sorry for your loss Mark.
Reading that felt so raw with emotion.
Thanks for sharing that with us.
 
MarkinPhx said:
Back in 1981 my dad's mother died. She had willed me her 1964 Impala so my dad and I flew into Dallas and drove down to his hometown of Clifton Texas to pick up the car. We then drove the car back to Phoenix. It was a 2 day road trip. My dad and I had not been getting a long at this time. I was just getting out of my teen years so.....

I learned a lot about my dad on that road trip. Things I still haven't shared with anyone else. After the road trip we became friends and for the past 43 years he was one of my best friends.

His body gave up with his struggles with dementia a week ago last Wednesday so this is the first Father's Day that he has not been around. I am a little sad but overall I am relieved that he is no longer suffering from that condition. Today I celebrate his life and I am appreciating how much time I was able to spend with him before dementia invaded his world.
Click to expand...
So glad you had that road trip with your dad.
 
I didn't have that much time with my father but my memories of him are very good. He invited me to spend Christmas with him in Rome. We stayed at my aunt Ada's place. My Nono (Italian grandfather) was still alive then. He lived with Ada, her husband and my cousin Fiorella. My father, the only son, was the king there. He directed the whole operation. We spent our time visiting the city, eating pasta, and talking. We retraced stories of his youth in Rome and I could listen to him for hours. I was quite familiar with the city already but walking the streets with him was special to me. We always had a special bond.
 
My Dad was a good man, but I'm struggling to come up with my fondest memories of him. In my youth, I looked upon him with respect, and considered him a combination of John Wayne, Jackie Gleason, and Archie Bunker.

Ha, I just recalled a memory that makes me smile..... I was 21 and he went with me to look for a new (used of course) car. We went to Courtesy Motors and I immediately gravitated to a used '64 Dodge with a 383 motor and a 4 speed.
With me driving, and the salesman and my Dad in the back, I did a test drive. At some point I floored it in 1st, shifted to second and made the tires squeal. The salesman started yelling at me, and my Dad said, "shut up, he knows how to drive". Wow, that surprised me for sure.

No, I didn't buy that car, but did get a '63 Ford Falcon Sprint instead.
 

What is your fondest memory of your father?​


Wrote about him several times

Here's a bit of that;

My first remembrance of my dad was seein’ him come home from work through the kitchen door.
Guess I was about three.
He was a giant in my eyes, shirt sleeves rolled up, curly auburn hair combed straight back, kindly smile bearing witness to his good feeling of getting home.
My circle of life was complete when he arrived.
I never really ever ran up to him like a lot of kids do, as I revered his presence.
He was my god.
He was a simple man, and we lived simply.
It was all us kids needed, ever.
Oh he had dreams, big dreams, and later on a good portion were realized, but with the sacrifice of a working man.
That’s what it took.

At about 4 years of age I remember my dad explaining an appendix to me after overhearing someone talk about having theirs out.
‘Oh, it’s a little man inside you that keeps you well, and sometimes the little man will save up all that sickness and pop.Then he has to come out.’
Seemed to satisfy my curiosity and maybe any other explanation would not have done much better.
Four year olds are quite impressionable, as overhearing my sister talk about a schoolyard mishap gave me a more vivid picture than I should have created.
‘Dennis Blickenship fell off the slide today and split his head open.’

(SPLIT….HIS….HEAD….OPEN??!!)

This gave me the vision of a kid runnin’ around with two head halves, split down the middle, propped up by his shoulders.
Course Dennis Blickenship was a bully, and I felt kinda good about it, bein’ he was the one that tied me up in the tool shed all afternoon while him and my sister did whatever they did.
Still…….


What’s for Dinner?...... Gnah! Whazzat?
The wife has cured me of most my finicky leanings, but I’ll be darned if I’ll ever relish things like chicken liver, or hearts, or any organs for that matter.
Dad was the same way.
We did have all four of the basic food groups, however.
Taters, peas or beans, and hamburger or chicken….oh and ketchup…..
Mom could be very creative with this broad selection.
So, one develops mono-taste buds when fed this combo in all its variations for twelve or so years.
Dad was even finicky about pieces of chicken, legs being the most kosher in his mind.
If I happened to reach for a leg, Dad would go into his subversive mode.
“Oh, you like the pooper, aey?”


I don’t think parents really realize how they give their children a sense of comfort and well-being.
I remember long trips in the Dodge, trips that would become overnight stays.
And me and sis would be sittin’ in the back.
No seat belts. Seat belts? Those were for racecar drivers, Indy, Le Mans.
I’d just sit there, not seein’ much, but the tops of telephone poles, so I was content to examine the petrified booger I’d placed on the back of the front seat from the last long trip,
and the backs of my folk’s heads.
Mom with her permed do, somewhat Lucille Ballish, and Dad with his curly hair neatly trimmed in the back.
I’d wish for that curly hair to be mine, but I had my own,
the cow lick being as close to curly as I’d get.

But toward the end of those long drives I’d get all sleepy, and as consciousness faded, I’d faintly hear my parents chatting away,
voices becoming unintelligible murmurings in sync with the hum of the motor, until I was zonked, slumped over like I’d just been shot.
Their voices were quite soothing, and I looked forward to those long trips, just for that.
Not sitting by the car for days waiting for voices on a long trip, but none the less, a subconscious thought of that scene was a comfort
….quiet voices in a cloud of nothing else but stillness…all is well…… I have parents that I can willfully take for granted, without even really thinking about it.


I wasn’t the most curious child in the world.
I could very well have been in the world’s top three least curious.
Actually, the term ‘acute awareness’ might as well have been in a foreign language.
Untied shoes, zipper at half mast, jam from breakfast on my afternoon chin, all were part of my repertoire.
As mentioned, I looked upon my father as God.
I revered his very presence.
And it was intimidating.

So, just me and God are going down the road.
Mom, in her momliness, ‘Don’t forget your coat and cap!’
The morning became quite warm.
I don’t know where we’re goin’…never knew…..never asked.
The sun is beating down through the windshield.
Sweat is beginning to pour outta my cap and into my coat.

‘How ya doin’ over there?’

‘G-o-o-d.’

‘What are you thinking about?’

(THINKING????!!!)
(GOD IS ASKING ME A QUESTION!!!)
(THINK MAN, THINK!!)

(Whaddya think Adlai’s chances are?....How‘bout them Mets?...what then???!...I got nuthin’)

‘Arrre you warrrrm enough?’

(He’s got me. I’ve got this damn coat and capon, don’t I…?!)

‘Maybe you should roll down the window.’ (words heavily dripping in sarcasm)

(Well, there it is. God is looking upon his idiot mongoloidal first born son.
Hopes of a bright future dashed against the rolled up window.)

The breeze was refreshing.

I really wanted to hang my face out the window, but dare not make a move that may totally confirm his thought pattern at present.

Things went like that with me and God….for quite a few years really.
Throwing the baseball into the dark of night till my arm fell off.
‘You’ve got a natural curve, son.’
(curve?...my damn fastball is going so slow, he thinks I’m throwing a curve ball…)
 
MarkinPhx said:
Back in 1981 my dad's mother died. She had willed me her 1964 Impala so my dad and I flew into Dallas and drove down to his hometown of Clifton Texas to pick up the car. We then drove the car back to Phoenix. It was a 2 day road trip. My dad and I had not been getting a long at this time. I was just getting out of my teen years so.....

I learned a lot about my dad on that road trip. Things I still haven't shared with anyone else. After the road trip we became friends and for the past 43 years he was one of my best friends.

His body gave up with his struggles with dementia a week ago last Wednesday so this is the first Father's Day that he has not been around. I am a little sad but overall I am relieved that he is no longer suffering from that condition. Today I celebrate his life and I am appreciating how much time I was able to spend with him before dementia invaded his world.
Click to expand...
Given that you shared such an emotional, yet uplifting tribute about your father Mark, gives me inspiration to do similar.

My parents yearned for a large family, they wanted four kids. It was a time when the world had defeated the war-mongerers, life was on the up. My siblings and I were all spaced about three years apart, just as our parents planned. Then in September 1955 mother was diagnosed with TB, in January 1956, she died, she was 34. Dad was left alone with four kids. I was nine and would be ten in a few weeks. Then there were two sisters and a baby brother who was just eighteen months old.

Relatives helped with taking care of us until baby brother reached school age, then we all lived together and Dad was wage earner, cook, cleaner, father and surrogate mother. He held the family together, it wasn't an easy time, life was tough, but it taught us all not to take anything for granted. We never had much but we never went without. The kids all grew up and left home but Dad lived with the younger of our two sisters. It would be sixty years later, in 2010, that Dad, left us to join his beloved wife, whom he had mourned for so long.

Today, at church, I remembered him and said a prayer of thanks, he could easily have put us into care, in fact he was pressured to by the authorities, given us up for adoption. Instead Dad gave us the best example of unselfishness we could ever witness, for which my siblings and I are eternally grateful. God bless you Dad, we love you.
 
Rossana said:
I didn't have that much time with my father but my memories of him are very good. He invited me to spend Christmas with him in Rome. We stayed at my aunt Ada's place. My Nono (Italian grandfather) was still alive then. He lived with Ada, her husband and my cousin Fiorella. My father, the only son, was the king there. He directed the whole operation. We spent our time visiting the city, eating pasta, and talking. We retraced stories of his youth in Rome and I could listen to him for hours. I was quite familiar with the city already but walking the streets with him was special to me. We always had a special bond.
Click to expand...
This is very special, @Rossana .
 
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