Since Sunday will be Father’s Day, I wanted share some thoughts on the father figures in my life. 

The first thing you need to know is that middle age passed me by some time ago.  As I’m fond of saying “Age is nothing more than a state of mind, and I am very young”.

Growing up, I never was very close to my Dad. 

He was a wholesale food salesman and spent long hours on the road, working for the same company over 50 years. 

On Saturday mornings, he would go to the warehouse for a meeting and to check in, turning in the receipts and orders from Friday. 

Each evening, it was the same routine, checking in prior to coming home.  Our family meal was usually on Saturday at noon.  Sundays, he was on the golf course.

A Model I  Admired

Occasionally, when school was not in session, I got to make a sales run with him, which I always enjoyed. Many times my sister and I would get to go to the warehouse with him to check in, if he would stop by the house first. 

I can’t remember my Dad ever raising his voice although he always spoke in a loud tone.

Nor do I recall ever being spanked. 

I wish my kids would be able say the same about me, on either account.

Prior to my dad retiring, I was married, with children, living in another town; however, I believe we actually developed a closer relationship, after I left home. 

Very seldom did a week go by that my wife and I didn’t visit our parents. We now wish our children would do the same, even if it was once a month. 

Where did we go wrong?  

During my childhood I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents, who happened to live down the street from the Noonans. 

I can’t remember my Grandfather ever working a regular job, although he was a Licensed Stationary Engineer.  He did do handyman work, and he owned some buildings, which kept him busy. 

During the summer months, many times he would take me with him to do the handyman jobs or work on his buildings. I really enjoyed going with him, helping where I could and riding in his Model-A Ford. 

Do as I Spray —  or  Say

I do remember one time getting in trouble on a project at one of his buildings.  He wanted me to spray the side of the building for termites.  That was what I did, spraying the entire side of the building. What he actually wanted me to spray was along the foundation. I believe we call that “a lack of communication”.

During the time I spent at my grandparents, I also got to know Ari’s family and his dad, who  died last month. He was a super guy. I can remember one time helping him with a project at a neighbor’s home. I can recall this so well because I got an electrical shock while working in that house. Whenever I would get back home and run into Mr. Noonan, he would always remember my name, which I found impressive, as sometimes it would be years between meetings.

My paternal grandparents also lived in the same town. 

We would normally go to their home as a family.  Their house was a little stuffy, whereas we had a lot of freedom at our other grandparents. 

My grandfather was a contractor; however, he lost his business due to a terrible accident and for most of the time I was growing up, he didn’t work.  He would sit at his desk and play solitary for hours and grandma always referred to him as Mister.

He did get a night watchman job at a local quarry. On Saturdays during the summer, I would go to the quarry and cut grass at the office building. Occasionally he would bring me a truckload of dynamite boxes, as I enjoy working with wood. 

Wish I had saved some of those great boxes.  Grandpa did have a toolbox made for me for either my birthday or Christmas one year, and I still have it. Probably isn’t worth the space I use to store it. However, it means a lot to me. It’s a keeper.

This weekend, let’s remember all fathers — those who have gone to their eternal reward, those who are separated from their children for whatever reason, and especially those serving our country.

Happy Father’s Day!

Mr. Hennessey may be contacted at pmhenn@sbcglobal.net