Tuesday, April 30, 2024. A tribute to my father and mother.

As some of you know my father passed away a little over a year ago. He had a wonderful, eventful life and was ready to go at the end, but his absence has left a hole in my life and in my heart.

I won the parent lottery when I got Bob and Rita as my parents.

My mother and father were happily married for 71 years. Their courtship and marriage is an amazing Norman Rockwell love story.

They met in the summer of 1952 on the corner of 5th and Monroe in Springfield, Illinois. Dad and his friends were hanging out on the street corner and mom and her friends were promenading by hoping to attract the boys’ attention. Mom, who usually wore flats, decided to borrow her older sister’s heels for that night’s promenade.

As mom strolled by dad and his friends he was instantly smitten. He thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And he thought she had great legs in those high heels. I am sure that the hem of my mother’s skirt was well below her knees and I am sure that her heels weren’t all that high, but my father instantly and resolutely concluded that my mother had Betty Grable legs.

Dad wheedled an introduction and then asked mom if she would allow him to buy her a drink at the Saddle Club.

Thank God she said yes!

Dad’s mother, Henrietta, was a devout Catholic and her most fervent prayer was that her only child, her precious son Robert, would meet and marry a good Catholic girl. My dad quickly found out over a drink at the Saddle Club that those Betty Grable legs were firmly attached to a good Catholic girl. My mother was the answer to my grandmother’s fervent prayer.

At the end of the evening my father asked my mother if she would like to see a movie with him next weekend.

Thank God she said yes!

The next weekend my father knocked at the front door of my mother’s house. Her mother opened the door and there was dad all dressed up in the only suit he owned. It was a zoot suit. The suit coat of Dad’s zoot suit had lapels that winged out beyond his shoulders. The bottom of the suit coat hung below his knees and he was wearing blue suede shoes. He must have been quite a sight.

They dated for a year and a half and then he decided to propose. His proposal went like this. “Rita, would you like to open a joint checking account?”

Thank God she said yes!

A few months later dad was drafted. He spent two years in the Army and spent one of those years in Korea during the Korean War. During his two years of service he was promoted from private to sergeant first class and was awarded two bronze stars.

Before he was drafted he drove a truck for a typewriter repair service. When he got to Korea he was assigned to an artillery company as a truck driver for the forward artillery observers. The life expectancy of a forward artillery observer was measured in days or weeks, not months or years.

Within a couple of weeks the company clerk got sick and was sent back to the United States for treatment. In order to be a company clerk you had to know how to type. The company commander pulled dad aside and said: “Before you were drafted you worked for a typewriter repair service, I assume you know how to type.” Dad smartly saluted and told the company commander that if a typewriter was a musical instrument he would be playing the typewriter at Carnegie Hall. In truth dad couldn’t type at all but he did get the company clerk job. But for that little white lie who knows what would have happened to dad in Korea. It didn’t hurt that mom said a rosary for him every day while he was in Korea.

In late February of 1953 my father rotated back from Korea to the United States. He got off the plane in San Francisco, immediately found a pay phone, called my mother and said: “If you aren’t doing anything on Saturday would you like to get married?”

Thank God she said yes!

They married in early March of 1952 and began their 71 year adventure as as a loving and devoted couple and soulmates in the truest sense of the word.

On the night before he went into the hospital mom and dad sat down at the kitchen table, bowed their heads and said grace. They then clinked their wine glasses and said “I love you” to each other and meant it in every sense of the word.

Dad went into the hospital on April 7 and he called me to tell me to come home and help him on his final journey. I was planning on leaving Denver on April 12 to do the Portuguese Camino. I cancelled my plans and drove through the night to get to dad’s bedside. He apologized for screwing up my trip and made me promise to do this Camino once the dust of his passing had settled. The dust has settled and now I am ready to start walking with dad.

I feel so blessed that for 67 years I had the best father, mentor and friend in the whole wide world. My father always was and always will be my hero. Rest in peace dad.