A Tribute to my Dad From as far back as I can I remember I knew that my parents loved me. The first memory that comes to mind is getting up early as a very young child and crawling in between my parents as they slept. There was this overwhelming sense of peace, security and contentment as if it was the safest place in the world and no one could hurt me. Growing up in Brooklyn, NY I always felt there was a home waiting for me. My parents love was as unconditional as love could be. My dad was my protector, if an older kid was beating me up he came to my rescue. If it was someone my age my mom forced me to fight to defend myself. We did not have tons of money but whenever I wanted something really bad… I got it. If I was desperate for a quarter to buy a few comic books or a few bucks to by a pet hamster my dad was there. He was a NYC cop and he was strict. I had a real fear of getting caught for doing something wrong. Ironically this did not always stop me from getting in trouble, I just knew there were major consequences to pay if I got caught. And when it did prevent me from doing something wrong it was perhaps at the most crucial times. The most feared words I ever knew at a young age were when my mother said “Wait till your father gets home”. Yes, he was strict, but just. I had an unspoken confidence he would give his life for me if necessary. It was a quiet and unassuming confidence for a child as young as I was but it was as real and strong as any conviction one could have. When I ran away from home at 16 he looked for me and found me and beat me to a pulp for what I did to the family. Then he loved me. I never ran away again. When I left home to join the Marine Corps in 1974 he picked me up at the airport after I graduated from boot camp. It was the first time I ever saw him with tears in his eyes. It was then at the age of 19 that I started realizing the depth of my parents love, thinking back over my early years and how blessed I was to have parents that loved me like they did. I bonded with my dad after that. We spent time watching a lot of sports, debating the Christian faith and arguing politics. We rejoiced when the Islanders won the Staley Cup and the Giants won the super bowl. I remember one year in particular when the Islanders were massive underdogs to the Montreal Canadian. It was May 3, 1977, game five of the series and the Islanders were down 3-1 to the Canadians. They were facing elimination and the game went into overtime. You could just feel the intensity in the living room air. When the Islanders put the puck in the net to win the game we both instantly jumped over the coffee table screaming and hugging each other. The joy was so spontaneous and complete that it will be a moment with my dad I will never forget. So small and insignificant in light of the world’s problems yet so profound and special for a father and son. I will also always remember the tragic moments of death in our family and the pain he went thru. He had a severe stroke in 2001 and although he recovered he was never the same towing figure that I will remember him as. I would always tell my friends that never met him before the stoke I wish you knew my dad when… He was a fighter to the end and he loved me to the end and I will miss him. But I have a legacy from him that I need to carry on: To share the love he showed me in action to the less fortunate. So to all the orphan and needy children whose lives were changed through my work or will be changed in the future I can honestly say that anything I have been or accomplished in this life is because of what my mother and my father gave me: pure unconditional love.
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 01:41:54 +0000
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