A Belated Happy Father’s Day
From a woman who knew neither of them
Between the ages of five and six, my mother divorced my father. She never spoke bad about him, however, the only thing she would tell me is that I would find out what kind of person he was on my own. During that time, there were the scheduled weekend visits, he would take me to Golden Gate Park, or to the zoo. Then the visit would end with the both of us at the toy store.
There are several memories that stick out about my father. One was where he took me to the Ice Capades, and when I had to go to the bathroom and he couldn’t go in, he had a nice lady take me, because I needed help to put the dime in the door lock to “open” the stall door so I could pee. ( I probably went through several dimes and I was crying, so he found someone to take me.) Yes, I’m that old where one had to pay to use the toilet way back when.
The second memory is not so kind.
My father had found out that my mother was going to remarry again. During that time in the 60’s it was best advised that she get a man, for her two young children needed a “man” around the house; single women did not raise children on their own.
I think I was coming home from school that day, and I saw my father on the sidewalk. I ran up to him, yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!”
