Defining Fatherhood

This is our first Father’s Day without Bernie’s dad.  I think this might be the hardest day without him yet. Father’s Day and Bernie’s birthday are usually about a week apart. We almost always celebrated with a cookout a Bernie’s parents’ house.  Bernie’s mom would spoil Bernie with lobster, mussels, or whatever other seafood seemed to fit the occasion.  Ed would man the grill, cooking corn on the cob, hamburgers, hot dogs, and even veggie burgers. I still picture him on the patio with a spatula in his hand, watching the kids play in the grass.

 

Bernie’s eulogy of his father at his funeral was very moving.  I almost recorded it but it just didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to do at the time.  For months, Bernie has intended to post the eulogy on the blog, but I think it was a difficult thing to revisit.  The hard drive on the laptop that had Bernie’s notes, crashed last week and we almost lost everything, including this.  Nick, being the computer genius that he is, was able to recover everything.  I’m going to go ahead and post it now.  It seems appropriate since it is Father’s Day, plus it will ensure that we have a digital copy in another location.  Bernie’s notes are not really in a postable format since they were just that… notes. I’m going to take the liberty of editing them a little and hopefully maintain the character of the presentation.

 

September 30, 2013

 

Thank you all for being here with us today.  My father had the great ability to make everyone feel welcome, to feel at home; like they were a part of his family.  My dad couldn’t go anywhere either without someone knowing him, or him striking up a conversation with a total stranger.  He was friendly to many, but took friends less frequently.  Instead of having one or two close friends, he had friends everywhere:  at the gas station, at the grocery store, at restaurants, the list goes on and on.  There are probably many good stories about my Father, John, which I’ve never heard. When you have time I would be very interested in hearing them.

 

When I began writing this speech, I wanted to define fatherhood.  The essence of fatherhood is showing love in all of the little things you do every day. Therefore, I am going to speak about some of the things that my father gave me in my life, and to some of the people around him. 

 

My dad was very passionate about his grandchildren, he has six.  He loved them dearly. He showed that love in the things he did with them. When they were learning to crawl, he would crawl with them.  He got down on the floor and cheered for each inch they would advance.  He played games completely made up by Jack, such as “Angry Birds-Cars 2-Star Wars” (yes that is one game).  He spent hours playing trains, coloring, playing peek-a-boo, and reading them stories.  He would make the most delicious pancakes and French Toast, utilizing secret ingredients.  He attended numerous baseball games, wrestling matches, plays, birthdays, and graduations. He was truly their biggest fan.

 

My dad gave me so many things in my in my life that I still employ today.  He taught me how to play tennis.  That was, until I beat him, then he stopped playing.  He taught me how to play baseball.  He had an incredible work ethic and always did what he had to do to take care of his family.  He was a coach.  He took me to my first Star Wars Movie, twice.  He fell asleep in the theater, twice.  He taught me how to iron clothes.  For a short time in the 80s, wrinkled shirts were all the rage.  I had one.  My dad was so proud when he showed me that he ironed every single wrinkle out of the shirt.  I couldn’t believe he had done that, he couldn’t believe it was supposed to be wrinkled.  Christine’s favorite thing he taught me was how to mumble under my breath.

 

My dad took me to Boston to see the Red Sox play a few times when I was a child. My dad, growing up in Attleboro MA, was destined to be a Red Sox fan.  He got me a Red Sox hat. I thought it was cool. It had a "B" on it, which I was sure stood for “Bernie.” Somewhere along the way I found out there were other teams out there, and I became a Yankees fan.  Everyone who knows me knows that I bleed pinstripes. My dad was ok with that. He even rooted for the Yankees with me in 1996, because he knew how important it was to me. He did it because he loved me, not the Yankees. My dad and his brother, Bob, went to some Red sox games at Fenway in recent years. My father showed his subtle love for the Red Sox once again.  I almost had him turned.  Fittingly this year my Yankees are not playing in the playoffs, but my Dad’s Red Sox are. In honor of my Dad, I will be rooting for his team this year, as he did for me. 

 

In closing, the greatest lesson my dad has left with me are that no issues, problems, or concerns are too big to keep you from watching a baseball game, to say hello to a stranger, or telling the people important to you that you love them each time you see them.  Thanks Dad, Love you too!!