Tomorrow is more personal to me. I'll be on a plane to go to Boston, and if you can't feel the irony, then you don't know history. Boston was where 9-11 started, but when I woke up that morning, I had one thing to do, call my Pops, because 9/11/1950 is his birthday. Well, 11/07/2008 was the day he decided to leave this Earth and go one to a different place, and I'm hoping for him it is a better place.
Richard J. Solan taught me many things, some good, some bad, and mostly great. He died far too young, as far as I'm concerned, as he never will get to be there for either of his sons to get married, sire children and see how they do. He didn't like me too too much when I was a kid growing up, spent a year calling me 'oaf' when I was 9, but he did love me. How do I know? Easy, no one would've been so hard on me otherwise. It's my blog, it's my belief, and it's what allows me to get thru every day.
I know I laugh like him when I'm being mischiveous. I know I sound just like him when certain situations arise. I know I miss him like mad at times like these.
In truth, he became a better father after my brother came along. He became a great Dad about the time I started my senior year of college. Maybe he knew all along that I was not long for the Northeast once I graduated. I certainly didn't. Go figure, while my brother was doing his thing and being a degenerate (and if he can't admit that, then we got bigger problems), he started showing up in different ways. How? Well, he physically showed up to my bar on more than one occassion on his way home. I remember the night he stopped by, I was down in the storage area, and my partner for the evening, Big Scott (think 6'3", solid 250, mason by day) came down and told me my Dad was at the end of the bar.
'Drinking a Miller Lite?'
"Uh, no, you might wanna come up and see him"
'What the hell is he drinking?'
"Absolut, rocks, no fruit." (Yes, you've heard me order it, as that's my drink of choice if I'm not drinking Miller Lite-commence shutting up and keep reading)
'Uh-oh'
If he started off a night like that, something was definitely up. The man drank Miller Lite, Absolut, and Grand 'Cuckoo' Marnier. Funny, guess what I drink? Literally the same damn thing. The apple (me) didn't fall too far from the tree.
Want me to sum my old man up in one sentence, no problem. I did this just the other day, it's a quote from Mr. Saturday Night-'Every guy wanted to know him and every woman wanted to fuck him.' And I'm dead serious. He was a good looking man. He had style, and a strut. He taught me to hold my head up high, to never apologize for who you were, unless you were an asshole, then apologize all the time.
I was amazed that after I moved out to Denver how smart he had become (yes, that's a joke). We taled all the time, he came out and visited for business and stayed with me, it was great. We would goof around and laugh. How could you not miss that?
He met a bunch of my friends and they all loved him. Some of my buddies from elementary/jr/high school were intimidated by him. FYI, my Pops was 5'8" on a really sunny day, and averaged 156 lbs. Not the most intimidating figure you'll ever see. But to me, he was Superman. I realize that Superman had kryptonite when I was about 15. His vices were trying to appease his Mother, albeit quietly. It was a wasted effort. Another vice, a far more deadly one, was smoking. 4-5 packs a day. So if you or someone you know and love is smoking, tell them about my Dad, how he died at 58 and left a wife and two grown children staring at each other thinking out loud 'WTF?!!' 58 is too damn young.
Like I said, I miss him, and at times like these I feel like I need him. The best thing, though, is that I can close my eyes, take a deep breath, and he's right there. All the lessons, the yelling, the calm, the sarcasm, it's all there. And when you speak to me, it's probably all there, too. I'm a product of my environment, and I know in my heart he tried very hard to make sure I didn't do certain things in my life, that I would be better than him, that I'd have more than him.
Well, as a kid, I wish I had him around more. I wish he didn't do the Sunday crossword puzzle in pen and in silence. I wish he told my Mother how beautiful she is, how much he loved her and appreciated all she did. I wish he told my brother to grow up and laugh at himself. I think he is getting there, but some encouragement wouldn't have hurt. I wish he would've told me that he was sorry, and meant it. I wish he weren't selfish. I wish he didn't give more to his Elks Lodge than he did to his family. But most importantly, I wish he were still here.
And it's because all of the things I learned, too numerous to mention. But I will list some things in a sec, and I can tell you he shocked me more than once. The time in 5th grade that I got in huge trouble for swearing, I was sure I was dead where I stood when he showed up at the principal's office. I couldn't have been more wrong. He had a moment of patience, and it saved me a beatin'. I will tell you that he wasn't a hypocrite. He never told my brother and I not to smoke, drink, do drugs, have unprotected sex or have too much fun. He told us why it wouldn't be a great idea. That type of honesty is something a ton of parents now could take a few notes on. He told me we'd never be friends, and he was right. Well, until the last few years. He did a pretty good job of teaching me how to be a guy, so I didn't have to learn too much in the last few years.
So, what did he teach me? Easy, I'm one of the few guys that can dance, so I have rhythm. How many white guys do you know that can dance without the overbite? Exactly my point. I know how to cook, how to buy a suit, and again, I can't stress this enough, how to be a guy. I know that I don't judge a man based on skintone (so he's got a better tan, big whoop), but to evaluate him on his character. I think he really wanted me to be a jack of all trades, and I can attest that I am. I fear no one and I can talk to almost anyone. I'll never be the smartest guy in the room but I'll never be the dumbest. And I'll lead with my heart before I do my head. It's my downfall, but I just want it to be fair.
It's been one of the things that's been bugging me lately, that I've spent all this time playing it straight, that that's how it really is. Well, it's not. Most, not all, people have an angle. I can hear him laughing now.
What else did I learn? This is so simple, it's funny. Most of the things you see and know about me when I'm out and about, that's Pops. Open, honest to a fault, let it all hang out and never apologize, that's all him. Looking good, being clean, choosing friends, smirking all the live long day, that's him, too. Never watching the ball while watching hoops? Yup, that's him, too.
Knowing when to say when? Ha, did you meet my Dad? There were moments, but far and few between. Now, know when to get a ride, you betcha.
Suffice to say, he was awesome to hang out with, could bust chops with the best of 'em, and I'm pretty darn sure he was proud of me. I think the best lesson he may have taught me applies to the previous sentence. Some people will like you, some people won't. Those that don't, fuck 'em, it's their loss. That's pretty good advice, if you ask me.
So here, on September 10th, let me say it to you on 9/11, Pops.Happy Birthday. You are loved, you are missed, but most of all, you're remembered very fondly. And as long as Ryan and I are around, you won't be forgotten any time soon. I'll be raising my glass to you tomorrow night, I assure you.
The picture above is Pops and I. I got my blue eyes from him, amongst other things. Here's some Old Blue Eyes for ya, I hope you're at the end of the bar telling tales, I love ya!
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Now playing: Frank Sinatra - Luck Be a Lady
via FoxyTunes
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