I was 20 and had an open ended return ticket to Israel. Before going to Israel I was going to England and France by myself. Met people on the plane; it was the way kids traveled then. Everybody else on the plane, or those I ended traveling with, had backpacks. I had a matching set of luggage, because my father was convinced that backpacks would kill me.
Before I left my father had to give me detailed instructions; over and over again. One was not to forget my Blue Cross/Blue Shield card. I was 20, in perfect health and exceptionally fit. Had to be to carry the luggage.
I didn’t forget my Blue Cross card. It would have been a mortal sin,
But as I kept on trying to explaining to my moustached, way too long side-burned successful CPA father, nobody in England, France, Greece, Spain (where I was supposed to go someday after leaving Israel) and Israel accepted Blue Cross.
Later in life, my father usually would look just like Hal Linden who is considerably younger. However there were times my father would let his hair grow too long; I called him Einstein, and he thought that was a compliment.
My father had certain quirks and one was an ability to believe what he wanted to believe. He could be so wrong and think he was so right.
I showed him my Blue Cross card at the airport. Somehow he kept on forgetting that.
I know this next memory is false; he couldn’t have possibly followed me onto the tarmac, and screamed:
“Do you have your Blue Cross card? Are you sure that you have your Blue Cross card…Blue Cross…Blue Cross?”
I like the memory though. Always have.
He was being installed as president of our community’s civic association that night. The woman in charge couldn’t understand why my parents had to be late.
He said; he really said:
“Are you kidding? I would get into the plane and parachute halfway from England to spend more time with her.”
He would have; even though he was scared of heights and couldn’t swim well. I could beat him by the time I was eight, and my dad took games and sports seriously. He never let me win unless I really had.
I learned early to ignore his diatribes. But his insistence on my taking my Blue Cross card on my maybe for six months; maybe for years trip, has always made me laugh.
I did get to backpack through England and France, though my backpack’s were matched luggage.
Irony; I love buying luggage. The Swiss Army Knife luggage company came out with pink luggage. Tried to buy pink, non ultra-suede luggage two years ago. Couldn’t. I actually have to walk on the other side of Broadway so I don’t pass the luggage store, because I absolutely don’t need it.
And I never lack good health insurance. It’s very very important to me. Can you blame me?
Proud to be a daddy’s girl who went her own way. Think he was secretly proud.
He was proud I’m sure.
oh, there’s no question in my mind, he was incredibly proud. my dad never thought he’d have grandchildren as i alwyas was banging on about how i never wanted kids. look at me now. he is BEAMING!
you reminded me how much i love my dad.
The funny things about parents is that no matter how old you are, if they’re 90 and you’re 70, you will always be 16 to them. Did you take your vitamins? Where’s your coat? You’ll catch your death of cold.
Aggravating? Yes, but, when they’re gone, you sure do miss it.
I’m sure he’s proud of how you tell the story, the fact that you have the story and that you cross the street to avoid the luggage store.
My father passed away when he was in his 90’s. He had just been forcibly retired, and, in my opinion, it destroyed him. He had been working since he was 9 years old, when he ran away to sea, and worked as a cabin boy cum deck hand during WWI. His later career was storied – musician, athlete, fireman, engineer – he had always defined himself by his work. At the end of his life, he was serving as a senior’s rights representative, doing what he always did – work very, very hard.
I’m sure he was extremely proud of you. The way you tell a story. Oh yeah, and what a character he must have been. I can see him in my mind and even hear him yelling “Blue Cross card” loud and clear. Thank you for sharing.
I love reading your stories about you & your dad. You definately were Daddy’s Little Girl.
Nov. 8th will be 12 years since my dad passed away. The missing them never gets any easier. Fortunately, the memories stay as fresh too.
Nice post Pia
Lovely post, as usual, Pia. I lost my dad about a year and a half ago, he was 61. I had to say goodbye to my movie star handsome daddy with his head full of curly blonde hair and wanting so much to see his blue eyes and hear his voice again. I think about him in some way every day. I loved being a Daddy’s girl.