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Several younger friends of mine have lost their fathers recently. What I tell them is, it never goes away. My father has been gone for over a quarter of a century and I still feel the impulse to pick up the phone.
Very often, it is about baseball. Every time Frank Francisco is teetering in the ninth inning, I feel like calling my father, who never heard of Frank Francisco, and blurting in morbid tones, “He’s going to give up a grand slam right now.” Of course, in this new age, my son sends me text messages like, “What are they doing?” My dad would have loved text messages. He was a newspaper guy, would have loved brevity, learned to edit copy on a computer in his late 60’s. I still can’t perform that intricate task and have great admiration for his picking up a new skill at that age. The other thing is politics. I grew up hearing my father emitting a growl about McCarthy or Nixon. I’d love to hear him whenever Mitt Romney says something oily. But the thing I miss the most about my father is his knowledge. He dropped out of high school at 15, but knew so much about books, movies, politics, sports and history. He taught me to love New York City – the ethnic enclave on the Brooklyn-Queens border where he lived as a kid, which other people (not him) pronounced Greenpernt. I have no interest in ever leaving New York because of the drives and subway rides we took when I was a little kid. A war bond rally at Ebbets Field around 1944. The Automats. News stands. He was always on my side, on all five of his kids’ sides. I realize that more all the time. Wish I could ask him about the Hungarian politician (whose name I am forgetting) who visited his neighborhood right after World War One, or the first game ever at Yankee Stadium in 1923. My dad played hooky, at 13 so he could attend. I never did slow down and ask him about that day. Wish I could call him. It never goes away. 6/15/2012 04:38:13 am
Hi George,
George Vecsey
6/15/2012 06:11:15 am
Jon, thanks, it is funny how books make us feel close to somebody. My mom, English-born, had great regard for both Churchill and FDR, and whenever I read bios or histories involving them, I think of how proud she was.
Hansen Alexander
6/15/2012 06:12:55 am
George,
hansen alexander
6/15/2012 06:17:59 am
Ooops, sorry Canada for misspelling Maroney. His memoirs are delightful reading...
Hansen Alexander
6/16/2012 05:21:23 am
Okay Mulroney, you got to edit your blog, George, because I don't think I can spell anymore, but that should not distract from your moving tribute to your Dad, and your usual class, grace, and courage, in never being afraid to admit that you are human and care--care about the mine victims in West Virginia, care about missing your parents, care about the devastating destruction of breast cancer, care about the importance and positive influence of teachers, care about the community of Queens you grew up in and the friends you grew up and went to school with, care about orphans and their assimilation into new countries and new cultures, care about your own family and the good work they do, care about us readers who pester you with thoughts which seldom tries your patience, care about the integrity of American life and the integrity and fairness of sports. Your father must have been a great guy to impart those values.
Michael Berman
6/15/2012 07:35:52 am
George,
Chris Young
6/15/2012 11:39:41 pm
Whenever something crazy happens in sports, whenever I read a good book, whenever the Jays make a move or the Supreme Court decides a notable case, whenever the Conservative dinosaur of the day says something dinosaurian ... I could go on. Whenever whatever, I ask myself what would Dad say.
Alan Rubin
6/15/2012 11:54:38 pm
Altenir Silva
6/16/2012 05:54:13 am
Beautiful text about your Dad. Our parents are our friends forever. They never go out of our minds and hearts.
George Vecsey
6/16/2012 12:52:42 pm
Igualmente, amigo..GV
Suzanne Taylor
6/16/2012 01:21:52 pm
George, I still miss him too. I learned so much from him.
Janet Vecsey O'Rourke
6/16/2012 03:57:22 pm
Hi George,
George Vecsey
6/17/2012 03:06:30 am
Thanks to you both. You both saw a lot of Pop when he had some time. See you soon, Love, G
Brian Savin
6/17/2012 01:32:29 pm
The Hungarian...was it Apponyi, one of many of T.R.'s Euro-friends? What did your Dad say about him?
George Vecsey
6/17/2012 04:27:27 pm
Brian: I had second thoughts after writing that. It may have been a public figure from another nation who was visiting Brooklyn-Queens around 1919. I am going to have to do some research on this. GV
George Vecsey
6/19/2012 11:55:40 am
Glad I checked. My father was adopted by a Hungarian family. But it was not a Hungarian politician my father met in Brooklyn; it was Eamon de Valera, the president of the Sinn Fein who left Ireland for the United States from June 1919 to September 1920 to raise money. My father had a lovely singing voice and was asked to perform for de Valera at a rally in Brooklyn when he was around 10. My sister Janet confirmed that my father, on rare occasions, would mention it. How I wish I could ask him about that day. I've said this before: young people should ask questions of old people. GV
Brian Savin
6/20/2012 01:16:28 am
Fascinating. My, wouldn't it be funny if he sung for him in my grandfather's gin mill across the NY bay, or in Patty Gleason's. Similar places was where most of the money was raised.
George Vecsey
6/20/2012 06:32:11 am
Brian: Thanks for asking. I wrote a lot about my parents in my 1988 book, "A Year in the Sun."
Alan Rubin
6/22/2012 12:48:53 am
George-today's ease of communication and travel allows us to keep in touch with our grandchildren more readily than earlier generations.
Charles in Absecon
6/20/2012 07:58:36 pm
My father, a first-ballot Hall of Famer, though even that doesn't do him justice, has been gone 18 years. I can't be certain of this, of course, but I do believe not one day has passed since then that I have not thought of him at least once.
George Vecsey
6/21/2012 03:08:22 am
How true. But my guess is that if you feel that way now, there are few 180-degree sentiments. You probably were on the right track back then. But at very least it would be nice to ask a few more questions, to acknowledge backwards. I think we all today are more comfortable about expressing ourselves. GV
Martin Berliner
6/22/2012 05:29:38 am
My Father died in 1984. Your comments about your own Father really resonated with me. I think of my Father, an insurance broker and Golden Gloves boxer as a kid, all the time, practically every day. When I spent last Sunday with my son at the College World Series in Omaha, I thought back to my first Giants game with my Father at the Polo Grounds in 1946. We sat in Section 5, just over the wall next to the 257 ft. foul pole, for a Cardinal-Giant game. He was a member of the Section 5 Club. I always wondered why the "Club" didn't sit in a more preferred location. In any event, those memories remain with you regardless of how old you are. Best.
George Vecsey
6/22/2012 10:55:10 am
That was the year my dad took me to Ebbets Field for the first time. 7/3/2013 11:43:13 pm
I am glad George Vecsey is still very fond of his dad. The different incidents and situations he remembers about his dad clearly show how badly he might be missing. After all everyone has to move on in life. Thanks a lot for this sweet post about missing our fathers. Comments are closed.
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