MEMORIES OF MY DAD

Yesterday being Father's Day brought back many memories of my Dad. I've written about him a few times before so what I have to say may be a bit repetitive, but it's my blog. I also covered some of the time we spent together in my memoir MAKING HAPPY.

My Dad came to this country as a child in the early 1900s with 7 siblings, 3 brothers and 4 sisters. I believe there might have been another child that died at an early age while still in the old country, Russia, or whatever it was called at the time. I think they came from some little schtetl (village) near Kiev. I tell people that if they should watch FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, that's the old neighborhood.

The family moved to Chicago on the near north side because the Uncle that sponsored them had rented an apartment in that area where many Jewish immigrants had settled. He went to grammar school and to high school and I'm not positively sure if he graduated. He met my Mother while in High School and was immediately smitten by her. He often said that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and I'm positive that during their marriage he never strayed.

When the war (The big one) started in 1941 he tried joining the Army but because he had flat feet (no kidding) he was turned down. He went to work at a defense plant before He and Mom purchased the grocery store on Division St. They owned the store through the war years but soon after Armistice Day an A&P moved a few doors down and shortly after, they were forced to close.

Dad and I were friends not only Father & Son, we were very close and shared our love of sports including Boxing, Wrestling, Horse Racing and Baseball. He took me with him as often as he could except on school nights. Most of our wonderful times together were spent during the summer months when school was out.

We would sit together in the bleachers at Wrigley Field, in center field before they blacked it out. He always had seats for the boxing and wrestling matches in the first three rows because of his love of the sports and the people he knew. Many nights we would return home with spots of blood on our clothing. Some nights when we went to the harness races we sit up on the roof because it was cooler but since no vendors came up there I had to run for the sodas or whatever we wanted.

It was wonderful being his son and especially nice when we would take some of my friends along and they would all tell me what a great guy he was. When I left for the Army his advice to me was to do my best and always think this thought, "Will it kill me to do it?" Many times during basic training I used that bit of advice to get through some tough stretches. My experience in the service made me a better man that I was before I was drafted.  I was hoping to go to college on the GI Bill when I got out but instead I got married and started a family.

Everyone that knew my Dad tells me how much we looked alike and when I now look at pictures of my son, grandson and great grandson you can see the Shapiro genes. I think of my parents very often but I remember, more than anything, the great times I spent with my Dad. Father's Day still brings a tear.