My Dad....DOB 3-1-1909..

Father's Day tomorrow stretches across time with no one to buy a card for or his favorite shaving lotion, Old Spice. My dad died at the age of 64 from heart problems that did him in. 

Of course, a lifelong smoking habit didn't help.  Neither did his gambling addiction that gave him an adrenal rush and  a roller coaster ride of wins and losses.

I miss him  and his fierce and partial love for me, his only child.  I never doubted that.

He graduted from Lane Technical High School in Chicago, the only one of his siblings to do so.  Smart, sly and cunning,  the bookies in our neighborhood were his pals and downfalls.  Everybody liked him, even my mom most of the time.

He was a master mechanic partial to Chrysler products.  We always had a Dodge or DeSoto.  Other makes were not mentioned.

He was my companion on long evenings when my mother worked the night shift on a factory assembly line. We sat by the radio and laughted at Fibber McGee and Molley, and were captivated by Mr.  District Attorney and The Shadow Knows.  He did crossword puzzles in ink.

Loved to barbecue chicken on a grill, boasted about his fig tree, fixed cars that lined up in our alley on Sundays, for friends and family.  Protective of me, he greeted my dates with steely eyes and wasn't shy about mentioning his mafia connections.

Big hearted, affectionate,he beamed with pride at his two grandkids, David John and Judith Debra.  Italian men were partial to the boys in those days, but he treated them as equals.  Told Judith someday she would be  princess in the Rose Parade.  Slipped money to each  of them with the warning not to tell grandma.

Called me up one day at my office--ironically I worked for the District Attorney--and said he was on a winning streak in Las Vegas.  I said great, quit and go home.  Nope he said, promising to give me 10 percent of his winnings.
Yeah, right, I thought.

He won $2000  and gave me $200.  

In spite of money worries, he left my mom with the  house intact, a car and money in the bank that she managed to squirrel away,

That was my dad, handsome, trim with a mustache, soulful brown eyes, and Clark Gable ears.

Love you, Dad, 
Ann Marie