Father's Day Archives - Ramblin' with Roger

Fatherhood

a different lovely person at each age of her life so far

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled onto an NPR YouTube video, “‘Weird Al’ Yankovic on ditching architecture for music, fatherhood, and staying weird.

At about 7:15, he talked about daydreaming about his daughter’s childhood, showing her old pictures on his phone – “Remember this when you were eight?” I THINK I try not to do that too much, although I do wonder what she remembers when she was younger.

Rachel Martin asked,” Did you always know you wanted to be a parent?” He said that, honestly, no. But he got married in his late thirties and became a dad to Nina in his early forties. Now, “I wouldn’t have it any other way”.

I’m feeling essentially the same, although I first became a dad in my early fifties. There were times in the early 1990s when I hoped it would happen, but it didn’t. And I was okay with it. It wasn’t meant to be.

Besides, I had nieces. I babysat some of my friends’ kids. But having your own kid was a different animal. For me, it mainly was hoping I didn’t screw her up too badly.

My father believed in corporal punishment. Well, we’re not going to do THAT. But I didn’t want to spoil her either.

Many different persons

Al talked about remembering her at different ages, and I do with my child, hopefully not wallowing in it. It seemed, at least at church, that she initially gravitated towards the older kids, then later took care of the younger ones.

I recall that she went through phases of ballet, soccer, and playing the clarinet. None of these “stuck,” but I think they were all useful. She was, as one commenter said about Al’s recollection and a high school play he saw, being “a different lovely person at each age of her life so far.” It is “how one can be almost entirely different personalities, and how each of those stages of life is still a part of her, whether she barely consciously remembers them or not.”

Happy Father’s Day.

When is a father’s job done?

Mongoose is gone

When is a father’s job done? I’ve been musing about this a lot, probably because it’s Father’s Day. The photo is of my father when he was young, posted by the younger of my two sisters on Facebook about a month ago. I don’t know just how old he is, but he is at 13 Maple Street in Binghamton, NY, the house my grandmother and my mother both grew up in.

As I’ve noted, my father, who was born in 1926, almost certainly didn’t know his biological father, the Rev. Raymond Cone. His mother, Agatha Walker, married McKinley Green, pictured here, in 1931. But Agatha and Mac were separated by 1936. In the 1940 Census, Agatha Green and Les Green ((misspelled as Greene) were living with HER father.

Yet in 1942, there was a photo in the local paper of a bunch of Boy Scouts and their dads. On the left were Les and McKinley Green. But it wasn’t until September 13, 1944, three weeks before Les’ 18th birthday that Les was legally adopted by Mac, who was back with Agatha.

My father was involved in the post-World War II occupation of Germany in 1945 and 1946. He married my mother, Trudy Green, on March 12, 1950, in the very room where the piano he’s leaning on is located. By 1954, my parents and I were living downstairs at 5 Gaines Street, and Mac and Agatha were living upstairs.

I wonder if less ever sought Mac’s advice? Certainly, I never witnessed it, but that’s hardly proof.

Me and my dad

Reading through my diaries in 1971 and 1972, when I was 18 and 19, I see that I talked with my father a lot. I didn’t always AGREE with his advice. And sometimes he was in that “black cloud” mode where he was impossible to talk with. My sisters will verify this.

My real breakthrough with my dad wasn’t until the 1980s when I was in my thirties. I was in Charlotte, NC, visiting him, my mom, and my younger sister. He was telling me that he talked about me and my intellectual curiosity with his co-workers. I was in SHOCK. WHAT? Really? It took me by surprise.

Me and my kid

My daughter is getting ready for college. At some level, she is looking forward to getting away from the ‘rents, and that’s understandable and welcome.

On the other hand, she still needs her father to get rid of the millipede crawling along the wall near the ceiling. I said, ‘when you’re off to college, you’re going to have to deal with that kind of stuff on your own. (The song Riki Tivi Tavi by Donovan is running through my head at the moment.) But, quoting the musical Hamilton, NOT YET. She still needs her daddy, and that’s OK.

Father’s Day: Fakin’ it

the good uncle

Father’s Day has never been that big a deal. Certainly, it’s less important than Mother’s Day. Surely, I don’t recall my father noting it for his stepfather, McKinley. I’m sure that he dutifully accepted whatever present our mother bought for us to give to him.

When I was an adult, though, I’d try to call him or send a card at least, though I was/am notoriously bad at the latter. It seems that Mom cared more about Mother’s Day, so I was more inclined to make the effort.

I remember, though, that after my father died in 2000, ads for Father’s Day presents would irritate me more than Mother’s Day ads would after my mo died in 2011. There is no rational explanation.

Maybe it’s this: I never felt as though I had a lot of alternative father figures, unlike the other “moms” I had. My late FIL, sure, but we were more like buddies. Maybe it’s because he was only 17 years older.

The closest thing I have to a support group is the dads’ group at church. There are five of us. I’m the oldest, but my daughter isn’t the oldest among the kids. It’s been useful, especially, as I’ve said several times on this site, I have no idea what I’m doing.

“I still haven’t shaken it”

Should I be more firm over her school attendance early in the pandemic? Lessee, what did my parents do when I was going to school during a pandemic? Wait, that never happened.

I feel, quoting a Simon Garfunkel song, as though “I’m fakin’ it, not really makin’ it.” I try to take my cues from her. Some days, I barely see her, as she hides in her room for Zoom school. Other days, she’s out at the dining room table. You just can’t hug her one day, and the next, she’s offering them to both parents, for a limited time only.

Here’s something my wife told me only last month. My sisters both told my wife, many years ago, that I’d be a good father. It’s because I was such a good uncle to their girls. This is very kind, and I’ll take the compliment. But I don’t see it as applicable. Being an uncle is easy; being a dad is much harder.

Anyway, Happy Father’s Day to all of you dads out there, and to all of you who miss their fathers.

Dear old dad in Newspapers.com

the Ongleys

When I was on my genealogical journey for my father’s biological male parent, I got a subscription to Newspapers.com. You know, memory is a peculiar thing. I took a deep dive into the records that mentioned Les Green. There were over 300 items in the Binghamton, NY newspapers, most before 1974.

The earliest may have a picture of Les and his stepfather McKinley in 1942 with other Boy Scouts and their dads. I discovered that he was involved in the 1960s as a leader in scouting at the Interracial Center on 45 Carroll Street. Yet in my brief tenure as a Cub Scout, I never got the sense that dad was interested in scouting at all.

I remember that my father was the production chairman of the Civic Theater, the community performance troupe. Specifically, I recall his involvement with the 1960 production of Guys and Dolls, which was very successful. Even then, I thought the show, starting with the title, was rather old-fashioned. (Sidebar: my wife saw Bob Hoskins perform as Nathan Detroit in London in the early 1980s, so she’s more favorably inclined.)

The previous Civic Theater production was Separate Tables by Terrence Rattigan. What I didn’t know was that Helen Foley, speech and drama instructor at Binghamton Central HS was the director. She was my public speaking teacher a decade later, but neither my father nor la Foley ever mentioned to me that they knew each other. Helen Foley, BTW, was also the favorite teacher of Rod Serling of Twilight Zone fame, back in the early 1940s.

BTW, the costumes for Separate Tables were done by my grandmother Agatha and “Mrs. George Ongley.” George Ongley was Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls. My family visited their family for a time at the Ongley home in suburban Vestal. They had a couple kids if I’m remembering correctly.

Fighting for justice

Unsurprisingly, most of the clippings in the papers of dad were of him singing and playing the guitar. I knew my father performed at the Binghamton State Hospital, the “first institution designed and constructed to treat alcoholism as a mental disorder in the United States,” several times. But I didn’t know he was President of the hospital’s volunteer council c. November 1963. I wonder why he was so invested in that institution.

He was involved in a variety of civil rights organizations, such as the William L. Moore chapter of CORE. Once, his white colleagues sent me into the local Woolworth’s to see if I, like other black kids, would be harassed by the employees or the police. I was not on that day.

Dad headed the Binghamton-Broome Council of the NYS Division of Human Rights head by 1969. Interestingly, the formation of this body was rejected by the Binghamton city council five years earlier. That action generated a third of a page petition in the paper. “There is not a single day when a Negro does not suffer the indignity… of discrimination” in the city. It was signed by my mother, father, and McKinley, as well as over 230 other adults, many of whom I knew.

My father was Chair of the Human Rights Advisory Council in 1972. Yet I did not recall that he claimed that he was denied entrance to a public billiards parlor in Binghamton because of his race in July 1968, taking his complaint to the state Division of Human Rights in September of that year. I don’t know what the resolution of the case was.

Finally, he was Director for Joint Apprenticeship and Training for the Associated Building Contractors in August 1972. When he lost that position, he ended up moving to Charlotte, NC in 1974. Les Green was rather remarkable when I was growing up. Happy Father’s Day.

June rambling: fragments of finality

new Rebecca Jade and the Cold Fact!

Close but no cigar Their billionaire descendants, who control Krispy Kreme, Stumptown and other brands, are grappling with the exposure of an unspeakable secret.

The Iranian People Are Not Our Enemy.

John Oliver: Mount Everest’s tourist industry.

Nearly 1 in 4 American adults are worse off now than before the Great Recession.

Forgiveness Is a White Privilege.

The “Moral Budget” is a plan for the future, because everybody has the right to live. Rev. William Barber: “Jeremiah 22 tells us that when political leaders abuse their office & hurt the poor, we must show up in person to deliver a prophetic indictment. Now is the time.”

Weekly Sift – Socialism: What’s in a word?

Best game show host. “Who is Alex Trebek?”

Mark Evanier’s Mayberry Monday.

Arthur’s Internet Wading for June 2019.

Now I Know: Why Frogs Ribbit and The Art of No Noises and Rudolph the Red Knows Undersea Warfare, Dear and The Everyday Hockey Superhero For Hire.

Fastest lawnmower.