On this coming Fathers' Day, I wish to hold you and tell you how much we miss you. Yet it is never too late to show my deep affection for you. Whenever somebody lights up a cigar, wears an old wrinkled tennis hat, it reminds me of you.
Today the Six of June commemorates the day our troops landed in Omaha Beach during World War 11. Yet I wish to thank you for the war--over here.
. During the early forties, You worked till dawn feeding Mel and me and taking care of your sisters and brothers. Federal Plumbing was open from dust to dawn. Central Avenue had street cars then..You brother Uncle Henry enlisted and returned from the Battle of Guadalcanal in the Pacific without hair. He looked handsome after the war with a medal pinned to his uniform. In spite of heavy fire, he carried a wounded soldier back to his lines.
Uncle Henry, like you Dad, played for Jefferson High School. He gave up a football scholarship and enlisted. But you Dad had your own battle to fight. You had to watch the many milk fights your sons Mel and I had over the dinner table. You left at the crack of dawn and returned after dark. Those were the days when street cars ran everywhere.
I remember you owned only two golf clubs, a putter and driver. and that spanking new Packard Car. Wow! You were the first to throw a football to me and also take me to my first football game at Gilmore Field, remember? I still remember their blue and red uniforms. You also took us to Del Mar where I witnessed my first thoroughbred horse race. I remember you bet on On Trust and another by the name of Vino Fino beat him at the wire.
Do you remember our trips to Highland Springs and Del Mar? I can still remember those brunches, hay rides and dances at the Springs. Remember the Highland Springs band and the Mexican Hat Dance. Mel and I danced until our legs fell off.
I know it must have been you who subscribed to two local papers, the Times and Daily News. I enjoyed reading the box scores and also find out if my Hollywood Stars won a night game. Remember when you took us to Gilmore Stadium on O'Keefe and Merritt night? ?The ushers threw bags of peanuts at us in the seats.
I will never forget the last time we played tennis together at Rancho Park in West Los Angeles. We could not stop laughing. You wore the oldest pair of tennis shoes at the Park and also a worn out white tennis hat. Yet nobody in their seventies could drive the tennis ball flatter or madder than you. You often beat the tennis pro even in your forties.
On a more somber note, I am still watching over Mel. He is now blind and can barely walk. I take him to Norm's or a new burger joint called the In-and-Out burger. He still enjoys eating -- even though he can't see the food.
You never said "I love you" but you sure as hell did, in a different way. You bought me my fist and second car. My first was a Ford Fairlane. The times we had at the track I remember most. You always gave me part of your winnings.
And do you recall when sheets of rain came down at Santa Nita? We could not see one race but sure felt the darts hitting the grandstand roof. You placed two bucks on my Mom's nose. The horse was called Speedy Eddie and remember the call of that 1948 race even today. The public address caller's name was Joe Hernandez. It must have been 1947, or thereabouts.
"And there goes Speedy Eddie. She is fifth, now fourth and now head and head with the leader Broken Ox. It is, it is...Speedy Eddie going away."
You gave little me the heavy textured ticket and I walked up to the pay window and looked up. The man took the ticket and peered down at me. Do you know how much you won Sunny? Three hundred and eleven dollars.
The teller handed me the wad of money. I gave it to my Dad. I never saw you so, so happy. You bought a hot dog for me, remember. Now a hot dog for a nine year old tasted pretty good, specially with all that mustard crowded over it. Of course Eddie's eyes bolted when she saw the loot I placed down on our living room table.
Well got to go now. Have made good friends in Encinitas and am looking forward to next month when I can place a bet for you and Mom at Del Mar, where the surf meets the surf. Love First Son George (Looking forward to seeing both of you in heaven.)
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