I’d like to wish all the father’s a very Happy Father’s Day today.  If that’s you, stop reading this and go hug your child(ren) and tell them you love them.  If you aren’t a father but yours is still around, call him, go see him, and most of all, tell him you love him.  It may be your last chance, and it’s something you won’t regret.  Take it from someone who knows.

My father passed away at the tender age of 67.  Less than 24 hours after our last phone conversation which ended with me saying I love you.  Little did I know that would be the final time we spoke.  It’s been 20 years this past May that he’s been gone, and I miss him every day.  I will always remember the good times, and a few special moments that we shared together.

It’s those special moments that soften the anger that I feel when I think about his passing sometimes.  Anger from the standpoint that he was cheated in life from never being able to see two very beautiful grandchildren, my daughter, and my niece.  I’m confident though that my brother and I give our girls a glimpse of what our dad was like.

There were a few moments that always stick out in my mind that happened while growing up which I’ll never forget.

* He took me to my first hockey game at the old Chicago Stadium against my Mom’s wishes due to a blizzard like snowstorm.  Some guy with the nickname “The Golden Jet” scored a goal, the place went crazy, and I was hooked for life.

* He pulled me out of school (again against my Mom’s wishes) so that I could go to opening day with my older brother.  He wrote the note to my teacher which Mom refused to do.  It went something like this:  Dear Ms. Blake, Frank was taken out of class yesterday to attend a very important event.  Opening day at Wrigley Field to watch the Chicago Cubs.  Thanks for your understanding.  Yea, that was pretty cool.

* There was a walkout in 6th grade due to a rumor that gym class and other after school activities would be forever canceled.  Me and three of my friends decided to walk to downtown Chicago to join the protest.  I honestly don’t remember if one even took place.  We made it to the Lincoln Park area on Clark street which was about 5-7 miles from school, then turned around and walked home.  Mom was furious, Dad was calm and supportive.  I was exhausted. I came home safely, stood up for a cause, and gym class wasn’t cancelled.  Hooray! I had nothing to do with it…. however, Ms. Blake I’m sure began to wonder if I was going to be a rebel the rest of my life.

* We went to see the movie Bang The Drum Slowly.  A baseball movie about a catcher who had Parkinson’s disease.  It was one of Robert DeNiro’s first major roles.  The movie and storyline sad as it was, had me glued.  So much so that I wanted to stay and watch it again.  As the credits were rolling, my dad asked me, “wanna see it one more time”?  YES!  My dad went for more popcorn, which I’m sure I spilled, and we sat through it again.

* Finally, and this was a recurring event.  My love for cheeseburgers and fries are because of my dad.  On Saturday’s whether we were going to a Cubs game, or going to a movie or whatever else was happening on our day together, we’d always end up at the Hollywood Restaurant in Lincoln Square.  We each would order a cheeseburger with fries.  I had a coke, he had coffee.  Ava the waitress, always talked us into a piece of pie for desert as well.  Sometimes she just brought it over fresh out of the oven.

My dad is responsible for my love of sports, my stubborn ways, the little rebel in me, and for my quietly passionate behavior.  Ok, sometimes it’s not so quiet.  He taught me respect, to be myself, and to learn from mistakes while going after what you want in life.  He wasn’t always perfect, but then again no one is.

I would give anything for one more cheeseburger and piece of pie.

Happy Father’s Day.

Thanks for reading.  We welcome your comments and opinions.

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