Stories for Father’s Day

This Father’s Day I wanted to write a small article about my Dad, and since this is my website, I figured that I have the right to be a little self-indulgent.  It took me a while before I really understood the impact my father had on me, and I though a few stories might describe who he was, and how he changed the people around him.

Edward A. Raymond

My father was not a big car fan.  During the early years, he worked as a salesman leasing everything from heavy equipment to printing presses.  His travels would take him all over New England, and many times, he took me with him.  I can remember spending hours on the road in rural New York and Connecticut, sometimes spending my time lying on the back shelf playing with my Matchbox cars (Back in those days, you could get away with that stuff).  Every trip ended with a stop at a Red Coach Grille, a highway restaurant popular in the 60’s, where I would always order lobster.  Money was tight back then, but I never knew it, and he always enjoyed watching me make a complete mess.

He always took the time to be there for us, and was usually home at six o’clock every day.  One day, I remember there was a severe storm, and we were waiting for him to come home.  I knew when he arrived by the sound of the car, and could usually tell who was driving by the house, or what type of car it was, based on the engine noise.  This day, I heard the car and went to the picture window in the living room.  His 1968 Ford Galaxie sedan was in the driveway, and just as he was getting out, the car was struck by lightning.  I remember hearing a crackling sound, and seeing an outline of the car in blue.  Then the bang came, and we were all scared.  My father knew he was hit because of the sound, but for some reason he never felt a thing.  He laughed it off, and was more worried about us than himself.

When I was young, I filled the walls of my room with pictures of cars.  Each year I would drag my father to the auto show and collect car brochures from every manufacturer.  My favorite was Rolls Royce, but they never gave anything out to the public.  My father found a Rolls Royce dealer, and picked up four full color brochures, which I still have to this day.  This was not easy, since they didn’t just hand them out to anyone, and at the time it was obvious he wasn’t about to purchase a new Rolls.  I don’t know what he said to get them, and I understand it may not seem like much, but to me it was huge.

Now for the funny story.  My father was out in front of the house one day, doing something to the car.  The car must have run out of gas, because he re-filled the tank using a gas can.  In the process, gasoline dripped down the side of the car, and pooled on the ground.  Not wanting to leave a puddle of gas, my father came up with a brilliant idea.  He simply pulled the car forward a few feet, and tossed a match on the puddle.  Of course, the gas caught fire, and so did the trail leading back to the car, right up the side to the gas tank.  Thankfully, he had tightened the gas cap and the car didn’t explode.  He had all sorts of great ideas like that, and they made life fun, though my mother was not impressed.

One last story, and I think this is the best one.  Across the street from our house was an elderly couple and their daughter.  Over the years, the wife passed, and we became friends with the family.  I used to help them with chores and go over to keep Dick, the father, company in his later years.  After a while, the daughter decided she wanted to move to Maine, but Dick was reluctant.  They moved, and not too long after, Dick passed away.  When we heard, my father decided we had to attend the funeral, even though it was about 4 hours away.  So, my father and I drove to Maine, but the trip took longer than expected because of traffic.  We arrived at the church just as the funeral started.  As we walked in, there was the casket, and behind it stood the priest and Dick’s daughter.  They were about to walk down the aisle with the casket, and I could hear her crying and telling the priest “Eddy will be here,”  “Just wait a little more, Eddy will be here.”  I was shocked to see that the church was empty, with only the two funeral home people standing by.  No one was there for the funeral, and the daughter was all alone.  Just as she was about to start walking down the aisle, my father (Ed) slipped his arm around hers and whispered “I’m here” and she collapsed in tears.  I will never forget that moment.  Even though everyone else had forgotten about them, my father was still there for her.

My father was a fun guy, one who would see a friend off on vacation, and then wrap his house entirely in paper for his return.  He painted my grandmother’s garage red, including the windows, as a joke and another time caught a shark at our place on the cape, and then left it in her bath.  He once waived to friends at an auction and accidently bought a horse, and then tried to remove the back seat of the car to get it home.  Again, my mother was not impressed.  He wanted to become a priest when he was young, and could recite an entire mass in Latin.  Once, we had a group of people travel to Reno for a conference, only to have the first Gulf war break out overnight.  All transport planes were grounded, but with one phone call, he was able to arrange a Congressional jet to take everyone home.  At one time, he was a special police officer who protected Cardinal Cushing, and at another, a Wing Commander for an Air Force auxiliary.  He was a School Committee member, and part of the Planning Board, and he also founded Little League Baseball in our city.

My father passed in July 2006, and in the four years since his death, I am constantly reminded about how much he did for everyone around him.  He was strong, kind, and willing to give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it.  He changed the lives of many people, and it will be hard for me to come close to the impact he had.  This Father’s Day, take a moment to be with your father, or at least think about all he has done and sacrificed for your family.

Article courtesy of Chris Raymond