Happy Fathers Day Dad

My father was made from stuff that doesn't exist anymore. This combat Marine, baseball player, foundry supervisor and provider was a serious man who was mostly just used up and worn out by the time I was old enough to know him.

Dad never talked too much about himself. The little that I know is that he was one of the younger of eight brothers, was poor but had enough and was a fighter. He never thought too much of himself, considering himself to be a common sort of man. He boxed, he played guard in high school football and played baseball on an American Legion team after the war.

He got his nickname "Mike" for his ability to talk an Italian balloon street vendor out of free balloons (apparently no one else had such skills). My uncles all treated my father with respect and referred to him as "tough". When locals would ask who my father was their reaction was usually a nod that suggested that they viewed him favorably.

My father started his adult work life as a guard at the factory where his father worked. After Pearl Harbor, Dad promptly enlisted. In the US Marine Corps. That says a LOT about the kind of man my father was. He says that he got his comeuppance in The Corps. I think he meant that he met a bunch of men that he admired.

Dad fought the Japanese in the South Pacific and hated them for the rest of his life. I think that says more about them than him. He never talked about combat mostly ignoring my questions. Mom said that he killed Japanese. He contracted several tropical diseases and was so ill that he was transported back to the US for treatment. He was waiting to be redeployed for the the invasion of Japan when Hiroshima and Nagasaki were obliterated. Once he heard some fellow on TV whine about the use of nuclear bombs and he said that I wouldn't have been born without those bombs being dropped. Because he would have died in the invasion of Japan.

 He never strutted around boasting of his service and didn't tie his identity to The Corps. But as I got older and more observant I discovered that he was always a Marine. He instilled enough Marine into me that when I encountered Marines throughout my life I could identify them as such and respond to them favorably. I've been hired twice by Marines and I thank my father for that upbringing. You will never find a better friend or a worse enemy than a US Marine.

After the war, dad returned to his factory job but as a machine operator. He quickly rose to group leader, shift supervisor, general foreman and eventually superintendent making alloys that made space flight, modern jets and chemical processes possible. He took his work very seriously and instilled that principle in his children. He was always the good provider that he was raised to be.

Mom and dad bought a house and my dad proceeded to dig a full basement by hand. By hand! Later, my father and his brothers built our house. As a 5 year old boy I was amazed by this whole process. Dad worked a full time job and built this 1400 square foot house in in his spare time in six months. Not many men could perform this feat. A tornado utterly destroyed this house in 1965. It broke my father's heart.

My father's only fault was a fondness for drinking. He didn't drink often but when he did it was until drunk. I suppose it's the Irish blood from his mother's side of the family. Fighting, drinking and whimsy. Dad had a good sense of humor but he generally restrained it as my mother's German roots frowned on whimsical Irish nonsense.

Dad's health problems began is his 40s. Heart bypass, kidney problems and lack of energy. He had to retire when he was 55 and died of an aneurysm at 59. His last years he was frustrated because he didn't have the strength or endurance to do what he wanted to do. I took the last ride up to surgery with him and told him he'd be Ok. I said, "You're tough, a Marine." He told me "I'm tired" then "I want you to look after your mother". He knew and I knew he wouldn't survive it and he didn't. My uncles said combat and disease from WW2 took a lot out of him and eventually killed him. I don't doubt it.

Dad and I argued from the day I turned 14 until I was 18, then were estranged until I was 26. By the time we swallowed our pride he was sick most of the time. I regret the years of estrangement. I'll never know if Dad was proud of the man I've become. He never said. But I'm proud of my father. They just don't make 'em like that anymore.

Happy father's day Dad!