Tag Archives: Dad

Old Writing: Part 11::My Parents

Memories, People, Writing, , ,

This was written November 1966. Probably 4th grade.

My Parents

I love my parents very much. I need them very much because if I did not have them I could not tell them my troubles.

My dad is a mechanic. He is the only speedometer man in Elgin and my mom is a housewife. They both love me and I love me and I love them.

For my birthday once I got to go and see a movie called “Jack the Giant Killer” and then I got a kitten for my birthday. And I got a radio and alarm clock. But before my brother was born I got to do more things than now. I love my mom and dad. They spank me sometimes but I love them very much. They kiss me every day when I go to bed or when I get up in the morning or when I go somewhere and when I eat a good meal.

No comment on this one…

Dad and friends at the Shangri La

Things, ,

Found this among the photographs/letters/recipes/magazine clippings at Mom’s house. The photo was inside a two-fold handmade card with the Shangri-La Bar drawing taped to the front. On the inside, facing the photo are the addresses of the other sailors. They are hard to decipher, but here goes:

According to the back of the card the Shangri-La Bar was located in Panama City, Panama (156 Calle Del Estudiante, One Block from the Lesseps Park) and featured:

  • Newly and artistically remodeling
  • Better drinks at popular prices
  • Quick and competent service
  • Caters to all branches of the U.S.A Armed Forces and Canal Zone personnel
  • An honest to goodness modern bar that pleases the eye as well as the drinking taste of its customers

I checked, there is no Shangri-La bar in Panama City, Panama any longer, nor is there a park named Lesseps.

This is not politically correct and quite offensive, but this was probably 1949, so let’s give it a pass. Anyway, that woman was probably about to turn around and give the wolves a piece of her mind.

Three wolves dressed in navy gear at a bar
Shangri-La. Front of a handmade card

I love the look on the bartender’s face. These days we’d call it photobombing.

Four sailors and a bartender
Dad (far left) and friends.

Old Corduroy Jacket

Memories, Things, ,

At some time in my distant past I inherited a light brown corduroy jacket from my dad. I remember him wearing it, but don’t know why I ended up with it. I may have been a teenager. I may have worn it when I first got it, but I never threw it away.

Dad wearing the coat
Dad, Kevin and me in Chetek.

A few years ago I found the jacket in a box of stuff in our attic kneewall. I pulled it out to see if Clare wanted it. She didn’t. It’s been sitting around for a number of years, sometimes in the closet, sometimes in a box, occasionally on the coat rack in my bedroom.

A few months ago I debated throwing it away, so I tried it on. It felt like a hug from my dad. No way was I getting rid of that. It is very worn, has rust stains and is fraying at one wrist. But it is soft and warm. These days it hangs on the back of my work chair and when I get chilly in my office attic I sometimes put the jacket on. For the first few seconds I can feel my father’s presence.

The coat now
The coat