My dad's birthday was Sunday (Feb 3). I was yukking it up in Philly with no opportunity to dig in my photo files for anything suitable for the occasion. I took this photo of the City Hall in Philadelphia on Sunday. I don't know if Ben Franklin ever saw it, but the name Franklin rang a bell. In trying to remember a humorous story about Dad, the one that came to mind in this election year is how Marty--our neighbor at the lake and one of Dad's good friends--used to call him "Franklin," after Franklin Delano Roosevelt. (Not after Ben Franklin.)
Dad was a staunch Republican in the days when Republicans were honorable (face it...Richard Nixon was better than the freak show we have in there now). And of course, Roosevelt was a three-term Democratic president. Everyone, including Dad, got a good laugh every time Marty called Dad "Franklin."
Still, FDR was honored in my time--he brought the nation through the Great Depression, during which Gene and I were born, and he got us through WWII.
I remember the afternoon when we got the news that FDR had died. Gene and Mom sat in the living room listening to reports on the radio while I played with the electric train on the floor. The radio reporter, Mom, and Gene were all very solemn, and Mom dabbed her eyes a bit.
Those seemed to be the days when it was not as fashionable to hate the other party, although Dad could get up a pretty good head of steam over Kefauver and the New Deal. He pronounced the senator's name "KEEfawffer," which may have been correct. Others called him "KeeFAWVer."
Anyway, happy birthday, Pop! You'd have been 114 on Sunday--six years older than Dan's mom, who is still percolating and will celebrate her 108th in a few days!!
He wrote a short story when he was stationed at Newport News, Virginia, during WWI. It was about a rube sailor from the sticks sighting a submarine for the first time. Mom showed it to me once, and then she put it away. I don't know what happened to it. Like most revealing, personal documents in our family, it doubtless was disposed of before anyone else could see it and realize the depths of our presumption! Heavens!
oh, bother! i am reminded that dad's birthday is today, 2/5, and not sunday, 2/3. well, i made the same mistake last year, too. chalk it up to lousy EYESIGHT in addition to senile confusion. my h.s. boyfriend's birthday was 2/3, and ever since, i've been confused about which was dad's and which was the old bf's. i DID look it up last year in one of our homemade family trees, and i thought it said 2/3. hmph.
ReplyDeletewell, THAT was wrong, too. last year, i WROTE the post for dad's birthday, which i clearly stated was 2/5, on 2/3. it helps if i slow down and READ this stuff...
ReplyDeletegenug, already
be all of that as it may, happy birthday, Dad, and Bob, too (old bf, who is, i dare say, YOUNGER than me)....
ReplyDeleteWell, happy birthday to both of them, no matter which day it was, or is. And happy birthday to Dan's mum too! She's lasting very well.
ReplyDeletethanks, ex-shammy.
ReplyDeleteIn awe of how you express so much so precisely and so spiritedly! Franklin would be proud. What a shame his work was lost. I think there may have been something about that generation that over-respected silence on all fronts. My folks (mothers' side) definitely respected silence. They didn't even TALK. But Franklin definitely passed on his talent to his daughter. Hope he's celebrating up in heaven.
ReplyDeleteDarn! I wish I could have read that story. I googled Gertrude Dwyer and I found your blog. I can't wait to keep reading. I hope you don't mind, but I'm linking my blog to yours.
ReplyDeleteDad told me about your implants. I hope you love your new ears!
Lufus: wish the story was still around my own self...would love to read it again. just one implant, but i LOVE it!!! more fun than a barrel of monkeys. it just keeps getting better and better as my hearing nerve adds more neurons, or however it goes. it's not anything i could ever have imagined...nothing at all like a hearing aid. it's the real thing!
ReplyDelete