My dad loved to swim. I can think of him my whole life saying yes to swimming always. He would say Today is a swimming day or Let’s go for a swim, Nance and all would be right in the world.
Tag Archives: my dad
10 cents a bucket
My cousin, AJ, offers this story and although I don’t remember it, it was classically my dad. He would barter in the shops on Bloor St (Dad, these are not the beaches of Mexico), verbally wrestle a waiter who he felt was overcharging, he practically invented carrot on the stick parenting and all of it was for sport not necessarily outcome.
Get ‘er
My dad had only one sibling, a brother, James, who died at 42 leaving 3 small children and my Aunt Jackie. I remember standing in the laundry room when my dad told me. I gave him a hug. He had just been to tell his mom that her youngest child had died suddenly. It almost killed him to do so. I think it was the only time I saw my dad cry.
I asked my cousins, who always called my dad Unk, if they had any stories about my dad they might want to share. Tim, the fabulous middle child (ahem), who I adore adore adore, tells a story of his last visit with my dad. I won’t change his words. They are perfect.