What He Could Do

Dad-polish jokes in his pocket

Cook dinner for us girls, but all in one pot

Mow the lawn after his heart attack on a riding mower, handkerchief triangle around his head, roller skate when I was in eighth grade, go from a size fourteen neck on his wedding day to only wearing wife beater shirts in the summer. Winning state championship. Asked mom to skate-h=she was the newbie-and they won first prize that night. Care for his sisters rather than going to war, grandpa to Jeff, but not my sons. Pochy Frankron. (his sons-in-law’s affectionate nickname. His real name was Franky Pochron). Gave me his sense of humor, physique, quick wit, singing voice, and propensity to put on weight. TV, Swiss cheese, a quart of beer per night-Pabst blue ribbon-. I don’t remember much interaction between my parents on a visual level, but I knew they loved each other somehow. Mom did the garden, dad mowed the lawn, he cooked, and she cleaned. I used to describe my parents as complimentary angels, completing one another, Dan and I do that now. Never heard my parents fight, never heard them make up, so I thought Dan and I would never argue and when we did I assumed it was my fault.

Was my father proud of me? Eight grade roller skating party-he stepped onto the floor after almost twenty year, did a spread eagle, took my hands and skated backwards with such grace and ease, even with his pot belly from Swiss cheese and a quart of beer each night. Provided me with a bevy of cousins and family times with the Foxes, Danhoffs, and Uncle Nick, Auntie Vi and Kathy (none of these three were were blood relatives) but who loved us as added so much depth and velvety richness to our lives.