Those Other Fathers

Tell me were you ever ever frightened
in the afternoons of life
Sitting in your home with closing eyelids
being someones else's wife
One who doesn't care 'bout you at all
only came when his hormones called
He'll never love you the way I do

You used to write me soft revealing letters
I always read them when they came
We stood beside the world in many matters
no one but ourselves where there to blame
And now in a meek but sudden mood swing
not even a thank you for everything
He'll never eat you the way I did

I think the world will always need the cryer
Lonely people seldom mend
Some remain strangers to themselves
still they cross the earth for a friend
If you think you cannot love me till the end of time
with a life not far from mine
No one knows you the way I do

Doris Days, The Cryer

"You Don't Take the Last of a Man's Anything"

I came home on leave and took a beer from the fridge. Couple minutes later, I heard him come in the front door, walk into the kitchen, open the fridge and close it. He came out to the porch and saw me drinking his beer. "That's my last beer." he said. I looked at the can. I looked at him. "You don't have anymore?" He looked at me and I saw his jaw tighten. "You don't take the last of a man's anything. Do you understand?" I got up full well knowing I was gonna have to replace a can of Black Label with a case of Heineken.

Happy Father's Day

The Old Man's in the Angora V-neck. Korea, circa 1970. Information Officer for the 2nd Infantry Division. Shortly after my father died, I was contacted by the man on the right.

I was a young Lieutenant in Korea and your father was my boss in the information office. He was a great guy and I’m sorry to hear he’s gone. He gave me the freedom to do what I wanted to but also kept me out of major trouble. I enjoyed the year I spent with him in “Freedom’s Forgotten Fighting Frontier.”

Part of our job in Korea was to print the division newspaper. It was type set and printed by a Korean firm, the type setters understood NO English so a p,d,q,b all looked the same to them. As a result we spend a great deal of time proof reading. These pictures were taken at a picnic held by the Korean printing firm. The young lady was the only member of their staff that spoke any English. I’m the kid in the straw hat.

I remember when your Dad got the Topcon RE Super. I remember thinking how huge it was. He was proud of that camera and took some good pictures. As I said before I enjoyed knowing and working with Major T, he did a great job of keeping everything in perspective.

It's strange to see him in photographs I've never seen before. It's even stranger to see him so relaxed. I think I saw him smile three times -- and that wasn't so much a smile as a grimaced smirk. My first reaction was not hard to understand. He was relaxed and happy because he was away from his family. Thousands of miles away.

And it hurts to think that. So, I came up with another theory. He was tired of the bullshit in Special Forces. He was frustrated with the strategy in Vietnam. But he loved to write and he loved photography. He was finally doing what he loved to do, publishing a newspaper and a magazine. Far, far from home.

Can I help you?

The Living Room

I was 14, when a friend I was with got caught stealing a double Chicago album in the Willow Oaks Shopping Center just before Christmas. He was older and his father was a famous Air Force Ace as well as Thunderbird pilot. My friend was detained by the store and police were called.

That afternoon the Ace visited my home with his son. I was called downstairs by my father and we all sat in our living room with Danish furniture and a white Flokati rug. My fathers paintings were everywhere. Some were, I like to think, tasteful nudes. I don't think the Ace painted.

He told my father his son was arrested for shoplifting and that I was I with him. My father, who didn't have much use for me at this age, sat on the edge of the sofa and looked my way. "Is that true?" he asked. "Yes." I said, and said nothing more. There was silence and I looked at my friend who was staring at the Flokati rug.

The Ace suggested I was the lookout and that it was probably my idea to steal the Chicago album. My father turned to me and I told him I didn't even like Chicago, that my friend had been stealing anything that wasn't nailed down for as long as I knew him, and that he told me about stuff he stole before he ever met me.

My father, a major, turned to the Ace, a colonel, and said, "There you go." The Ace looked at his son and asked if it was true. The son nodded. The Ace suddenly looked small and dark in our bright living room. He left with his son taking the dark with him. Nothing else was said by my father.

40 years later I still obsess over shoplifting paranoia. If I don't buy something a feeling of dread comes over me. I'll be stopped. Questioned. Accused. By a famous Ace. And then I remember my father... and how bright it was in that living room.

Father's Day Advice

I'll never tell you what's coming back. I'll only tell you what never left.

My Sub today

Dad's Understated Choice



I grew up with the lore of my father's Explorer upon his return from war. It was an icon to me. His thick wrist covered in the black face and stainless steel with those beautiful numerals.

Front of photo: Dad in Nha Trang - 1967

Back of Photo: "Finger in ear! A typical pose. Look at that $200.00 Rolex shine in the "sun""

I learned to make fires in the Army and it didn't matter how wet the wood was. It always ignited. Thanks to a 5 gallon can of mogas. Despite her vulgar and wasteful ways the Army was not shy about collecting totems within units.

I was eight or nine when I first heard 'Rolex' from my father. It was the watch for Special Forces. Anybody in the military could buy one but few did.

Panmunjom, Korea - 1971

He's showing the Explorer to an anchor cranker or marine. No doubt the young 'El Tee' bought a Rolex before rotating home thanks to that mystical military allure. No, "Joe Shit the Rag Man" here. We're talking clued in. OD Green hipsters. Guys who sniffed out the best: restaurants, booze, cigars, music, reel to reels and wheels.

Dad - Ft Bragg, NC 1966

It was the totem I grew up with. The mysterious watch elicted 'oohhs and ahhs' from those in the know and not so much as a side ways glance from those not. That was the power.

Tintin - Ft Bragg, NC 1977

I pulled the trigger in 1976. Couldn't swing the Explorer but happily settled for the 5513. I was in the Sub Club few understood. Times have changed and the Sub is everywhere. When Dad and I talk about Rolex it's almost as if it's an old language we've grown tired of (Dad chucked his Explorer into a New Mexico desert and I'm close to chucking mine onto 7th Ave.). Inaccurate. Expensive to repair. Anxiety of loss.

But it was his advice I nearly always bought, "Drink the local beer. Be the last to a party and the first to leave. Check out her mother before you marry her. Never take anybody's last anything. Keep the rear sights in focus and you'll hit it every time." These things never seem to run slow or get lost.

No Joy Without Sorrow - No Sorrow Without Joy

Flickr

Happy Father's Day - For Mary, Veronica & Dad

Grandpa Arnie on far left (in more ways than one)

He was, by all who knew him, a quiet man.

This man of incredible tenderness and patience married a woman and family who found humor in the shortcomings of others. My grandmother, a woman who influenced me greatly, loved poking fun at the world and people she didn't know very well. She was hysterically funny without any effort. When my grandfather told a joke...No so much.

Sitting at the head of the dinner table, Arnie would begin his, 'Dorkie Story' by leaning back in his chair and reaching in his trouser pocket while conversation was stopped by his magnificent radio voice, "Your grandmother Sophie makes wonderful dorkies..." And pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket, he would hold them up and peel off each one saying, "and garagekeys and carkeys and mailboxkeys..."

I carry my grandfather's Armed Forces Network Radio Press Pass in my wallet - - where my drivers license should be. I'm not sure why. I just like that it's there. A couple of months ago I was taking pictures of cars with NY Press Tags outside Fox News on 6th Avenue. I've been working on a post about all of the different NY state plates available in NYC. I'd kill for press plates.

Anyway, this security guard from Fox approaches me and asks what I'm doing. "I'm taking pictures of press plates." "Oh, who do you work for?" I pull out my wallet and flip it open. He looks at the pass and says, "Thanks." and walks away.

Had he asked me to take it out he would've seen I was born in 1906. But what does he know. He works for Fox News. I finished my picture taking and smiled walking north on 6th. I thought of Arnie who was such a proud Democrat and I think we shared a laugh again. There's not a whole lotta difference between Fox News and dorkies.

Chipp & Arnie

Favorite Chip & Ernie

Favorite grey stripe goes with anything

Favorite suit by Chipp

Favorite grandfather, Arnie

CWO 2 during WWII

Favorite sweat shirt

Favorite Sergeant Major

While my father can rewire and replumb a house -- I inherited Arnie's inability to hammer a nail straight. Maybe traits skip a generation. I don't know. I wish my father and my father's father a Happy Father's Day. And a Happy Father's day to all you dads.