Cheers to Legendary Dads!

Like me, my dad was a storyteller. Oral tradition was passed down through many generations of ancestors that lacked the ability to read, or write down their own thoughts, feelings, and histories. My father had the gift of gab, and was a talented storyteller with a booming voice and a wide-eyed stage whisper that made you feel like you were in on a most excellent secret. Before even becoming a father, my dad was “Uncle Al, the kiddie’s pal” because he was everyone’s favorite uncle.

Sunday was the 15th anniversary of my dad’s death. I was prepared to feel everything from a little melancholy to crushing grief, but I had a pretty good day spent with my husband's family, and memories of loved ones. I was fortunate to have known my late father-in-law before he passed away, and was privileged to have met him prior to his becoming sick. I got to know a little bit of the sly character that was also considered a favorite uncle amid my husband’s family.

I’m confident that our dads would have gotten on spectacularly, and can only imagine the stories that they would have told! I think that both of them would get a kick out of this one:

Family traditions have lots of different origins: some have been passed down for centuries across generations, while others are made up in back seats during long road trips, or through some random happenstance. In my family, for example, we all have a common phrase that we say when we go down a big hill or dip in the road. Why? Because when my youngest sibling was a toddler, he was afraid of the “rumble strip” sound that happened three times at the bottom of the hill, in front of the stop sign, when you were leaving our house. He would start screaming and crying in distress, so we started preparing him for the sound by acting like we were all going down a roller coaster: “WHEEEEEEE!” we would yell, covering the sound as we rolled down the hill. Invariably, our brother, who didn’t yet talk at that stage, would smile broadly, with some relief, and utter “gan ga gan” which apparently means something along the lines of “that horrible sound is over, and I am happy.” Regardless, for more than 40 years, if I go down a big hill I say “Wheeee…gan ga gan!”

Another tradition we have is “the family whistle.” If you yell “MOM!” in a store, any number of women are likely to answer. In our family, you whistle, and the right mom/kids will respond. This tradition goes back to the mid-1960s when my parents started dating during their first year of college. My dad would walk to mom’s dorm, stand under her window, and do “the whistle” to let her know that he was there. It’s still the fastest way for members of my family to find a missing kid in the grocery store!

My husband and I have been together just over nine years. The first real “family tradition” that we have together is a little bit weird and wacky – which means it’s perfect for us!

My father-in-law wanted to host Christmas dinner. We didn’t know then that it would be his last Christmas. He was still in good health, but wanted to cook a big, fancy meal and host everyone. For weeks we cleaned, cleared the table, dusted. His house had been neglected for a dozen years since his wife passed away, and the furniture and antiques were covered in a thick film of dust, and grease that somewhat resembled dryer lint it was so thick. I washed plates and, on a whim, I hand-washed about twenty pieces of stemware. We had mimosas around the fire on Christmas morning, and all drank from beautiful glasses!

From then on, whenever we would come over for dinner, I would bring a bottle of wine, as was my custom, and I started getting out the “nice” wine glasses since they had been washed at Christmastime. One night, my brother-in-law was washing up, and I asked what I should do with the dirty glass. He told me to set it beside the sink, which I did. Then, by means of mysterious circumstances that all deny, the glass got put in the sink, a pot was set on top of it, and it broke.

I learned about the broken wine glass several weeks later, when my fiancée’s dad waited until my guy was gone, then took me aside and told me about the smashing of the holy relic. Or at least that’s the way he made it sound. He said that it was the first thing that he and his late wife had purchased together. How it, like the woman herself, was precious and irreplaceable.

I was mortified, but I also wondered what I was supposed to do – offer compensation? Stop using the glasses? I offered to pay and was immediately shut down. No! These are our things, our legacy, our inheritance! I was told to use them in good health, just be careful. Thankfully, after the message was given and received, the awkward conversation ended.

Unfortunately, the legend not only lived on, it also grew. At Easter brunch, I offered to set up the beverage station for my sister-in-law and she teased “oh, I don’t know if we should trust you with the glasses! I heard about what you did!”

My brother-in-law joked about how I must have grown up rich and entitled, the way I just throw leaded crystal around!

Then by the time my birthday came around in June, my father-in-law wasn’t well enough to make the 45-minute drive to our house to watch me open the plastic wine glasses that were gifted to me (ha ha.) He did send a gift though – a set of his special wine glasses, that I cherish.

A few short months later, my father-in-law, Steve Rice, passed away. One evening, several weeks later, his son and I were in the kitchen. Though Steve’s special wine glasses were safely stored away in the China cabinet, one of my cheap “daily use” wine glasses met with an accident as I was unloading it from the dishwasher. As it smashed at my feet, I gasped, and my husband shouted: “HA! STEVE RICE SENDS HIS REGARDS!”

I laughed until I cried, then laughed some more and am laughing again now. Seven years later, if I jostle a glass I will say “did you see what your dad tried to make me do?” Or I’ll come home from work and my spouse will say: “oh, my dad stopped by today.” “Oh no! What broke?” It’s a funny way that we remember him, and that we share a laugh.

Our dads were funny, quirky, lovable, raucous, jokers. I know that they would love knowing that their legacies and legends live on. I’m proud to speak and bear their names.