His 40’s
Moving out of the city was talked about in our family as a great step. For years we lived off of my Father’s pay while my Mother’s nursing pay was deposited entirely into our family’s housing fund. We didn’t keep a car for many of those years and the only luxuries we afforded were braces for me and private school for Steve and I. In Feb.1982 years of house hunting trips finally culminated in a deal my family could live with. We negotiated for a new house in Pearl River, New York and for 65k they were even going to throw in the refrigerator. My mother is there, still.
Well, my Dad underestimated his love for the city. It took many years for Pearl River to grow on him. He liked the culture, stimulation and intellect that he found in NYC. Family dinners were often dedicated to poking fun at Pearl River and suburban America.
In his 40’s Dad became more interested in walking adventures- he would canvas the city or lakes, or his favorite vacation spots for hours on foot.
In the 80’s Dad found two new loves.
One was the Pearl River Public Library. I have no doubt that no one, from 1982 to 2000 took out more books from that library in any given year than my Dad. If there is a world record for books taken out of one library in 18 years, I’m sure Dad is a contender for it. Dad would read sitting up, laying down, on the bus, days, nights and weekends. It seemed as though he was going to read every stitch of print ever created. In 1996, techno phobia wasn’t enough to keep Dad away from the Internet and all of its content glory. Dad would strictly read non-fiction and periodicals (his absolute favorite of which was the New York Times). Principal topics were politics, world events and history. Beware anyone who had a conversation with him-he was loaded for bear.
Reading led to an interesting relationship with my Mother. Dad’s corner of the kitchen would be barricaded with books and every radiator in the house kept warm, tome upon tome. My father was always dying to talk to anyone who would listen about his reading, which meant that my mother would nod politely at long discourse about William Buckley’s unpublished contradictions or other matters that most people don’t follow. My father would nod politely about my Mother’s desire to keep the house presentable. Somehow they were in love.
Dad’s second new love of the 80’s was an elegant looking Afghan hound named Olivia. The whole family loved Olivia.
Dad, Steve and I found her on a trip to the pound one day in 1982 or so. We knew what we wanted on that trip and it wasn’t a sissy dog with foot long blonde hair. The pound moderator knew what he was doing though as he pitched us on the death row Olivia. He suggested that we take her for a walk knowing that we couldn’t give her back after that- he was right. That night Olivia howled all night and demonstrated against bad food by dragging her nose on the floor. In the morning we wondered if we had gotten a lemon but that was the last time we ever looked back.
Every time Dad would drive or walk anywhere, Olivia would be in tow. Dad kept a good relationship with the family butcher so that our freezer would often be stocked with bone marrow. Maybe Dad thought that he and the classy Olivia were too much for Pearl River.
Dad would end up refereeing over Olivia as much as anything else. He’d let Steve and I know when enough was enough when it came to the dog pulling Steve’s skate board, doing acrobatics for biscuits, learning new wrestling moves, and being fed at the table.
In the mid 80’s Olivia was the saving grace at our dinner table. Dad was given to causing debate and heated discussion by taking the opposite side of any talk and feverishly defending his view. To Dad, Reagan was evil incarnate and a phony, capitalism wasn’t protecting the American worker and computers were a fad. Olivia sneaking around under the table was the only safe subject and caused all of our blood pressures to drop.
Despite having to be dragged to family events, Dad liked hanging out with my Uncle Mike and Uncle David.
In those days, Dad would vacation in the Bahamas with Steve, and Block Island, Martha’s Vineyard, and Savannah Georgia, and of course the beach and NYS camp grounds with the family.
