Memories of Dad

Today would have been my dad's 91st birthday. Every year in February (when he passed) and in May, I remember what a unique individual my father was. He's the reason that I was given the name Elizabeth. His grandmother was also named Elizabeth and my father insisted that I be given her name, instead of Kerri Victoria which is what my mother wanted to name me. So I was christened Elizabeth Kerri as a compromise, but called Kerri for most of my life because, hey, my mother was the one who went through labor.

My father was a handsome man, not conventionally handsome like Clark Gable or Gary Cooper, but handsome nonetheless. If you look at pictures of me when I was about six and my dad when he was a young man, and the resemblance is amazing. I remember my freshman year of college, he came to visit me up at Syracuse to take back some of my stuff. We went to see a play in the drama department, and I got to introduce him to some of my classmates. My friend Gwenne pulled me aside later to declare that 'your dad is a fox!' which kind of creeped me out at the time.

I mean it's one thing for me to think my dad is attractive, another thing for a friend to think so!

I used to envy the fact that my dad's initials spelled a word and mine didn't. His name was Victor Ian Mahon (VIM) and my uncle's initials were RAM for Richard Arnam Mahon. My father was the sweetest man on the planet. I don't ever remember him getting angry or raising his voice to me. Despite occasionally threatening to spank me, I knew it was only talk. Even in high school, when my brother had to come get me because I was so drunk, and I had to tell my father, he didn't yell at me, which just made me feel worse.

He was absolutely devoted to my mother. I think the reason why I'm still single is because I want a man to love me the way my father loved my mother, and I'm not willing to settle for anything less.

I was a total Daddy's girl when I was little which is understandable since I was his only child. We spent alot of time together when I was younger. Even though he worked two jobs, he would stop by Woolworth's on 145th Street (when they still had a lunch stand) and pick me up a hamburger when I was home from school during vacation. He took me to see my first ballet (Sleeping Beauty with Fernando Bujones and Cynthia Gregory) and my first Broadway show (Sweeney Todd with the incomparable Angela Lansbury and Victor Garber).

He even tried to teach me how to ride a tricycle but I much preferred to have him pull me in the tricycle. Even as a child, I knew that I would one day need a chauffeur.

A World War II veteran, he was remarkably close-mouthed about the war. I had no idea he fought in the Battle of the Bulge until after he died. He should have gotten a purple heart for being wounded by a German soldier, but my dad was so modest that if they had tried to give it to him, he probably would have refused it or lost it. He was even offered the chance at officer candidacy school after he was drafted, but he turned it down because he didn't want to make the army his career. I think he didn't talk about the war with me, because I was a girl, and he wanted to protect me from the horrors that he had seen.

When I think of my father, I think of him sitting in the recliner in the living room of our house upstate reading a book, or watching TV, a glass of Scotch burning a hole in the finish on the coffee table. My love of reading comes from both of my parents, our house upstate was filled with books.

The things my father and I had in common was our stubborness, our hate of the sun (for two people who tanned so easily we both spent most of our time in the shade), swimming, reading, and our love of money for different reasons. He loved saving it, and I love spending it! Whenever I smell lilacs I think of him, we used to have a lilac bush outside our kitchen door upstate.

When I cut my hair in 9th grade, he was so upset that he cried. Being a spoiled brat, I gathered all the hair up and gave it to him. When we sold our house upstate, I discovered that he'd kept one of my curls in his desk drawer.

Happy Birthday Daddy. I love you.