To My Father … Shalom ben Z’ev ha’Levi
My father was a big man in heart and soul. He stood tall and proud. From what I do remember from childhood he was a fair person. He had worked hard so we could have a good life. He had provided us with a nice home and plenty of food.
The times we spent together as a family were fun. We went on long vacations in the summers after school had let out. We traveled to the west to see places like Yellowstone, Yosemite, and the Grand Canyon. When we camped during the trip, I remember the times in the morning hours when I would hear my father playing tic-tac-toe with his friend Bob while sitting on the John.
We used to make sandwiches with just about every choice of sandwich meat available to us at the time. Mom probably thought we were crazy. My father enjoyed taking photographs of trees, mountains, streams, animals and whatever else fell in front of his lens. Some of his best photos of my mother were taken from her facing away from the lens. He said he was taking her best side. Whatever. He was at the controls.
I remember sometimes he would take me along to his Civil Defense meetings. That is where I first tried out the CB radios. I think my father enjoyed operating anything that was electronic. Although the times I did get to be with my father were short, I did enjoy them a lot. I wish I could’ve had more time with him. He showed me how to ride a bike for the first time. He taught me how to drive a car and be responsible for it. My father picked me up when I had fallen down in life. Some of those times were harder than others. He always supported us children with whatever we were doing.
Whether it was for good or bad. The bad things were punishable. That was the one thing we all feared the most. That’s when Mom used to say, "Go to your room and wait there until your father gets home". We knew then this was the time that it was going to hurt. My father was strong. His hands were big and hard. I used to think that I could outrun him until one time he was quicker than I had anticipated. He had caught me within a few feet after trying to run away from him. That had made matters even worse. There was the time when Dad had found a pot plant growing in my bedroom. He had asked me what I was growing. I answered "I don’t know?" That went over really well. He said that he didn’t care what us kids do with our lives, just as long as we never get caught at it. Wow! My Dad was cool. He also told me to get the plant out from the window so no one else will see it. My father was an open-minded kind of guy.
The one thing that I think really had hurt my father was the time that my mother had left him. He was devastated. This happened after my sister and I had already moved out of the house. My other sister and brother were almost finished with high school. I don’t think that Dad really got over this. This was all a shock to us children. When we were growing up I don’t ever remember my parents really fighting at all. I know that he took along time before he would even acknowledge that she was alive. That was the only time I remember he ever held a grudge against anyone.
I think that people change a lot throughout their lives and my father had changed a lot after my mother leaving him. He began to loosen up a lot letting my younger sister and brother do things and stay out to all hours of the night that I wasn’t allowed to do. I think he was trying to be more of a friend to the younger kids than he was with me. My father was a strict man at times when it was needed. That was fair. I am glad that he tried to communicate more with Janet and Fred. I think back now about how I probably had worn him out during my juvenile years.
I am glad that I was there for him when he really needed someone just like he had done for me. I am glad I held his hand and shed tears for him when he needed comfort.
I am proud to call him my father.