There was never a time when my father didnāt sport a mustache. A thin, elegant line when he was a young man, a bit more pronounced as he grew older but always neat, always refined.
Dressed in his army uniform, he was every bit the matinee idol and it was obvious why Mom fell for him.
When we visited him in Albany Medical Center the morning of his surgery for multiple aneurisms ā both abdominal and aortic ā his grey hair was neatly combed, mustache trimmed. He was 82 years old and the doctors gave him a bleak 6% chance of surviving the operation. Yet, survive he did.
My sisterās daughter ā my fatherās eldest grandchild ā gave serious thought to postponing her wedding until my father was stronger. He insisted she ādo nothing of the kindā. He told us all, in no uncertain terms, that he would never miss his first grandchildās wedding ā¦. and he didnāt. Dressed to the nines in his tux and bow tie, perfectly groomed silver mustache, we all held our breath as they walked hand in hand onto the dance floor for what would be their last spin together.
When my dad died, we provided the undertaker with a photo for reference. The inexperienced mortician did a lovely job tending Dad but, looking back and forth from the photo to my father at peace his coffin, the undertaker knew something was amiss.
It was the first time any of us had ever seen Dad without his dashing mustache.
āArabic For Dummiesā? The Qurāan? What the hell are these disgusting books doing in our house? Youāre still associating with that … that … savage, arenāt you, Gloria? Answer me!ā
āPapa, please, calm yourself. Itās not good for your blood pressure. If youāre referring to Yusuf, he is not a savage. Heās a sweet, gentle and loving man and youād realize that if you got to know him. Heās a student at the university studying religion andā¦..ā
āAnd the making of bombs and God knows what else! Gloria, heās an Arab, a Muslim, for the love of God! Havenāt you seen enough on tv to know what these people are capable of? You saw with your own two eyes what happened yesterday! Here, on American soil. Crashing planes into buildings! Innocent people jumping to their deaths because it was preferable to being burned alive! We wept for people we don’t even know, Gloria. We witnessed the unimaginable. They are animals, mass-murderers, all of them!ā
āYou’re right, Papa; what happened yesterday was unspeakable. We will never forget such horror. Yusuf and his family are appalled and overcome with sorrow over this tragedy. But Papa, tell me ā when did you become an expert on Muslims or Arabs? Youāve never even tried to get to know them. All my Arab friends are good people, decent, peace loving people. Weāve spent hours talking, exchanging philosophies and sharing meals.ā
āI cannot believe what Iām hearing. You actually sit down and eat with these people, if you can even call them that? This is a nightmare! How can you do this to me?ā
āWhat am I doing to you, Papa? You havenāt even given Yusuf a chance. You refuse to meet him, to sit down and have a conversation with him. Youād see he is a man of peace, a good man incapable of hurting anyone.ā
āAre you nuts? Have you lost your mind, Gloria? Do you actually think I would sit with him in my house? Please, God, donāt tell me he has you brainwashed already! Thatās what they do, you know ā¦ draw you in to their cult and before you know it youāre hooked and thereās no way out. Why canāt you stick to our own kind, find a nice Jewish boy? An Arab and a Jew … whoever heard of such craziness?!?
“I can’t believe we’re fighting over this again! Why must you keep bringing it up, Papa? You didnāt give Evelyn a hard time when she said she was going to marry Gino. And what about Kenny when he and Makayla got engaged? You now have an Italian son-in-law and a black daughter-in-law who you welcomed with open arms and you don’t want me seeing Yusuf simply because heās an Arab!ā
āOh no, do not be fooled, Gloria. Thereās no such thing as ‘simply an Arab‘. They all have a hidden agenda! Are you blind to whatās going on around you?ā
āPapa, look at me. Iām a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. Why canāt you trust my judgement like you did with Kenny and Evelyn?ā
āGloria, youāre not thinking clearly. Gino is a doctor, making an excellent salary. Your sister and their kids will never want for anything. Makaylaās parents are lawyers and sheās in law school herself. Your brother and sister made smart choices. They didnāt bring some maniac suicide bomber into our family.ā
āSTOP! Stop saying that! You know nothing about Yusuf and you have no idea what youāre talking about! Heās a wonderful man with a big heart and we have developed deep feelings for each other.ā
āDeep feelings. Deep feelings? What are you saying, Gloria? Are you sleeping with him?ā
āOh my God! I canāt believe you just asked me that! Iām not a child and, frankly, thatās none of your business.ā
āNone of my business? As long as youāre living under my roof, itās my business.ā
āHere we go again! Well maybe itās high time I moved out of this prison and found a place of my own!ā
āPRISON! After all your mother and I have done for you, you have the nerve to say that! And by āa place of your ownā, you mean shacking up with that terrorist, donāt you? Why donāt you just stab me in the heart and put me out of my misery!ā
āGenug!Enough!Sei still!! Whatās going on here? I can hear the two of you all the way downstairs!ā
āHilda, ×××××Ŗ×(“my love”) I didnāt hear you come in.ā
āAs if you could hear anything over all the yelling in here! Whatās gotten into the two of you?ā
āItās your daughter. Sheās being absolutely unreasonable.I donāt even know who she is anymore.ā
āOh, mein Gott! So now sheās MY daughter? Sheldon, the last time I checkedshe was OUR daughter. Is this about that Arab boy again?ā
āMama, please! I canāt talk to Papa about this any more. If anyone is being unreasonable, itās him.ā
āGloria, calm yourself, meine liebe Tochter. Why donāt you go out for a while, go to that nice coffee shop near the university? Spend some time with your friends. Sheldon, come sit with me.ā
āHilda, are you crazy?Sheās going to run right to him!Donāt you see what youāre doing?ā
āJust like you ran to me, Sheldon, when your parents called me a filthy Nazi? Look at me, Shelly. Do you remember what it was like for us when we first met? You a Jew and me a German. Ach du lieber Gott! What were we thinking? My father was so furious, he wanted to kill both of us. But we knew weād rather die than be separated. Sheldon, you should know better than anyone that you cannot judge one man simply bythe sickening actions of others, byhis looks, what country he’s from or what god he worships. Youāre a good man, liebchen. You were a good man when we were teenagers and youāre a good man now. Youāre scared, Shelly, just like we were scared back then. But we persevered and in time my parents saw the real you and your parents saw the real me. Do you remember what you told your parents all those years ago?ā
āOf course I do.I said āI love herand I would die for herā.ā
āJa. And do you remember what I said to your parents?ā
āLike it was yesterday. You saidāI love him and I would die without himā.ā
āThings havenāt changed that much, Sheldon, except now WEāRE the parents. Shelly, you have to let Gloria fly on her own wings. You have to trust her. If you don’t we will lose her. I hate to burst your bubble, meine schnitzel, but they love each other and itās as simple as that. Trust them.ā
I’VE BEEN TAKING A BREAK THIS MONTH BY POSTING SOME OLDER PIECES. HOPE YOU’VE BEEN ENJOYING THIS BATCH OF HOLIDAY STORIES FROM THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST! š š š¼
It had been a busy night at my bar and I was cleaning up after the last customer left. It was Christmas Eve and most people headed out a little early to get home or do last-minute shopping. I locked up, turned off the lights and went upstairs to the apartment I shared with my wife Nicole and our little girl Mariah.
It was quiet in our apartment but I could see a dim light coming from Mariahās room. I peeked in to see my girls reciting bedtime prayers. My daughterās sweet voice was hushed but I heard her say āAnd God, please remind Santa the only thing I really want for Christmas is a kittyā.
I sat in the living room staring at the Christmas tree. Nicole came in and sat beside me. āYou heard?ā I nodded and said āYou know, Nic, sheās such a good girl, never asks us for anything. I have to see if I can find her a kitten.ā
āAt this hour, Kevin? Where are you going to go?ā
āHonestly Nic, I have no idea ā but I have to try.ā
Every place I tried was either closed or sold out of kittens and puppies. Even the humane society and animal shelters had no kittens. I drove up to Westchester and down to Brooklyn with no luck. Time was running out and I was getting more and more depressed with every passing minute. I just wanted to make Mariah happy; disappointing my little girl on Christmas was not an option.
As I was heading back home, Nicole called. āKevin, did you have any luck?ā
āNo luck, Nic. Iām tired, Iām frustrated and Iām really bummed out. Iām gonna stop for a quick cup of coffee and Iāll be home in a few. Love ya.ā
I pulled into a 24-hour Dunkin Donuts and ordered a coffee while the store ownerās cat rubbed up against my leg. āAdding insult to injuryā I thought. The store was empty at this God-forsaken hour. I asked to use the restroom and as I walked to the back of the shop, I noticed a box in the corner. Normally a box wouldnāt interest me but this box was whimpering. I gently flipped up the top and to my amazement saw four tiny kittens in the box. Forgetting my need to use the restroom, I raced back out front, practically falling over myself and startling the owner.
āSir, Iāve been driving all night looking to buy a kitten for my daughter for Christmas. Please, Iām begging you! Can I possibly buy one of your kittens?ā
The owner looked at me and said āAw, no man. Theyāre not for sale.ā
I stared at him blankly, not knowing what to say. I was exhausted and frustrated and finding a box full of kittens was a miracle. At this point I didāt care about my pride ā all that mattered was Mariah ā and I was willing to beg. I slowly got down on one knee.
The store owner looked shocked and even a little embarrassed. āAw, come on man! What are you doing?ā he asked incredulously. āGet up off the floor. I already told you I canāt sell you a kitten.ā
I stood, looking him square in the eye. āI know, sir, but itās my little girl. She‘s only four-years-old and all sheĀ ā¦ ā and he cut me off in mid-sentence.
āI canāt sell you oneā he repeated emphatically. āBut Iāll gladly give you one for your kid.ā
I swear to God, I could have kissed him. Grinning like an idiot, I grabbed him by the shoulders. āBless you, sir. Merry Christmas!ā
āSit down and drink your coffeeā he said as he shuffled off to the back of the store humming āJingle Bellsā.
Christmas morning Mariah excitedly ran into the kitchen and saw the mugs of hot cocoa and the Dunkin Donuts Munchkins box on the table. āYay, Christmas Munchkins!ā she squealed as she reached for the box, her big green eyes opening wide when she saw the tiny kitty staring back at her.
āWell, we got lucky, sweetheart; the rain held off. Ella, are you ready? The musicians are waiting for my signal.ā
I could hear the sound of my dadās voice but his words were garbled like I was under water and my thoughts were being carried away by the current. When I didnāt answer, my dad motioned for one of the musicians and told him to ājust keep playingā.
My dad and I were always close, even more after my mom passed away last year. He knew me better than anyone; when I didnāt answer his question, he stood silently by my side waiting patiently. I knew he was concerned and I loved him more than ever for not pushing me.
We were standing at the doorway to my future. A hundred or so guests sat far enough away so that I could not see them nor could they see me. The top of a white tent far down the pathway on the left side was barely visible ā the tent where my groom James was waiting.
We fell in love with the view of this breathtaking winery after attending a wine tasting with friends. All we could talk about for weeks afterwards was how lush and green everything looked; James said he couldnāt think of a more beautiful spot to get married. Next thing I knew we were engaged and now, at the worst possible moment, I was having doubts.
What should have been a one-night stand turned into a relationship and in record time we were āa thingā. James is a doctor which impressed the hell out of my mother and she fell instantly in love with him. He was wonderful to her; thatās something I will never deny. Mom kept saying what a great catch he was, how I shouldnāt let him get away. Her dying wish was for us to be married.
And why not? We werenāt kids, we both had great jobs, we wanted the same things in life and we were in love. But shortly after my mom passed away, I began to feel not so much in love with James as I thought I was. Sweeping away the detritus of negative thoughts from my head, we set a date for the wedding. How could I break a promise to my mother? How could I ignore my commitment to James? My heart told me one thing while my brain told me another. I shut out the voices in my head and they were quiet for a while. Today, on my wedding day, my brain was screaming at me.
The pathway leading to the tent seemed incredibly long and I could easily imagine myself escaping down one of the side paths between the hedges. What kind of thought was that for a bride on her wedding day? I was not one for fanciful imaginings; what I was feeling was very real. My knees buckled slightly and my dad steadied me.
āTalk to me, kiddo.ā
I turned to face my dad. āDaddyā was all I managed to eke out before the tears started. I hadnāt called my father Daddy in years.
Dad magically produced a handkerchief. āWhatās going on, honey?ā
āThis doesnāt feel right, Dad. Iām about to marry James because of a promise I made to Mom.ā
āElla, if you want to back out, Iāll stand by whatever decision you make. But itās best for everyone if you do it now, not after youāre married.ā
My dadās love for me was boundless and all I could manage to say was āBut you spent so much money to make this day perfect.ā
Dad put his hands on my shoulders. āDamn the money and damn the promises. All I want is for you to be happy. If you think this is a mistake, say the word. My car is parked right outside.ā
āWhat about James?ā I asked biting my bottom lip.
āIāll talk to him privately, Ella. Donāt worry about that.ā
I looked at my dad and quickly nodded. He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys to his car.
āGo on now. I have some explaining to do.ā He kissed my cheek and took off down the aisle.
My father was the type of man who liked to have fun, even if the joke was on him. I’m guessing the picture shown above ā¬ļø was taken at least 60 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. While my mother, sister and I were occupied with other things, Dad quietly went around the house collecting stuff ā in this case a scarf, a yarmulke from a friend’s wedding and our family Bible. He then sat there not saying a word until one of us noticed and we all cracked up. I’m pretty sure at that point he started chanting which made the whole scenario even funnier. I showed this pic to my husband last night and even he cracked up. Yes, dad, your legend lives on!
Dad’s jokes weren’t always funny and he didn’t have much of a filter. I remember a family friend was complaining that she needed to lose weight. Dad told her she looked fine just the way she was which would have been totally acceptable if he’d left it at that but he had to add that she was “pleasingly plump“. Our friend was not happy with that description and huffed off, angry and embarrassed. Meanwhile dad couldn’t understand what he said that was so bad. He’d often do things without thinking them through like the times he’d invite people over for dinner and fail to tell my mother until a couple hours before their guests arrived, usually resulting in mom reacting sorta like this:
Mom was like Gina Lollobrigida on steroids!
She never really hit him over the head with a frying pan but she wanted to ā lots of times. But that wouldn’t have stopped dad from telling the same old joke about the canary who ran out of gas or thinking he was entertaining countless waitresses by ordering an Al Pacino instead of a cappuccino which always resulted in an eye roll or a blank stare.
Speaking of blank stares, some of my relatives were hard nuts to crack and dad’s cornball jokes were definitely not appreciated. This was a particularly tough crowd; they look like they’re at a funeral instead of a bridal shower. ā¬ļø And why is the woman on the left clutching her purse so tightly? She’s in my parent’s house; who’s gonna steal it? Probably fight or flight reaction due to Dad’s jokes.
L. to R. ā My Aunt Cesaria, my grandmother (Dad’s mom), my Aunt Lena
What’s with all the purse clutching? Must be a generational thing. Man, I would have loved to have been around when this next photo was taken. ā¬ļø Talk about surreal! The parents look like very nice, normal people but totally confused and amused at the same time; I think those guys had that effect on all of us. (I was going to say they looked “Dazed and Confused” but that was done by a much better band ā no offense.)
KISS with parents
My dad was a good guy who meant well and wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was all talk and no bite, like the time he convinced an art auctioneer that he was “connected“. The poor guy was wetting his pants and falling over himself to make sure ‘Don Vito‘ was satisfied and there would be no retaliation. Mom just rolled her eyes and called dad “stunad“.
Dad had a lousy head for figures so, naturally, he volunteered to be the church treasurer. He then proceeded to botch the books so terribly, the Elders of the church came to our house looking very serious and officious in their black suits and asked dad how he managed to screw up the numbers so badly. Even dad couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong; he was totally flustered and way over his head. Everyone felt sorry for him but business is business and dad was officially removed him from his position.
Dad was an immigrant from Sicily who taught himself to speak, read and write English entirely on his own. And he barely had an accent. His biggest achievement in his eyes was being able to do the New York Times crossword puzzle in ink! Everyone loved my dad and it gave him so much pleasure to entertain his friends and spend time with his family.
Times were tough, often heartbreaking. In 1943 mom and dad lost their first born and only son, the brother I never knew, when he was only 2-years-old. Baby Frank passed away on New Year’s Eve; my parent’s never celebrated or went out on New Year’s Eve ever again after that. Then my dad got drafted and was sent overseas. I can only imagine what Father’s Day must have been like that year. Talk about rough times!
Dad with Baby Frank, 1943
Now that I’m older and hopefully wiser, I regret being embarrassed in front of my friends when dad told a corny joke or sang a silly song. I wish I didn’t think of him as a clown or a buffoon; no one else saw him that way (except my sister) and he made a lot of people happy. I was young and stupid; I didn’t realize at the time everything he did was with good intentions.
My grown sons remember my dad, or ‘Papa’ as they called him, but I have four grandchildren who never knew him. I hope when my granddaughters start dating, my sons will wait up for them to come home from their dates, just as my dad did right up till the night before my wedding.
Me and Dad on my wedding day, June 10, 1972
When you’re young you think you have all the time in the world, then you start to realize the older you get the faster time goes by. There are plenty of things I wish I could go back and do over; I can’t. I just have to believe that my dad knew I loved him even when I didn’t show it. I hope he’s proud of the person I have become. I’m proud of my dad and I miss him. I know he’s listening so “Happy Father’s Day, dad! I love you!”
Dedicated to my father, Vito Schembre, July 14, 1915 – August 1, 1998
Every morning my father would walk with me to the bus stop and wait for the school bus. No matter the weather, he never missed a day. Once I was safely on my way to school, he would go to work at the bagel store right on the corner by the bus stop.
Dad was a widower raising me on his own. My mother died from a fever when I was still an infant and I donāt have any memories of her. We had no other family nearby and dad did everything himself. I never heard him complain and I knew I was loved. Dad always packed small bagel pieces in my lunch bag; he sprinkled them with sugar and cinnamon and I giggled when he told me they were the ābagel holesā.
Next door to the bagel store was a shoe repair shop. A young woman sat in the window busily attaching new soles onto worn shoes. Sometimes she would stitch together a tattered handbag; I liked to watch her work, her fingers deftly plying the leather and pulling the needle through.
The shoe lady never looked up from her work but I could tell she was beautiful. She had dark brown hair that fell over her shoulders and long eyelashes. I asked my father if he thought she was pretty but he said he hadnāt noticed.
One morning during a rainstorm, we stood under the awning of the shoe shop. I watched the lady in the window and this time my dad watched her, too. She must have become aware of our presence and she looked up at us. I donāt know if it was a thunderclap or some other force of nature but when her eyes met my dadās, the shopās big front window shook and the lights inside flickered.
The next morning on our way to the bus stop, I noticed dad was carrying a worn pair of shoes ā and he was softly humming. I said nothing but my heart began to dance. Together we walked into the shoe repair shop and the lady smiled shyly at us. She was indeed very beautiful. Dad handed her his shoes and asked if they could be repaired. Their fingers touched and neither one pulled away. The lady said dadās shoes would be ready in four days.
Each morning after that as we waited for the bus we would smile and wave at the lady in the window. Sheād smile and wave back, her gaze lingering on my fatherās handsome face. On the afternoon of day four dad picked up his repaired shoes. He surprised the lady by giving her a bag of warm bagel holes sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. The shoe lady peeked into the bag and laughed gaily, saying she never had such a treat. She and my dad smiled radiantly at each other for a long time.
That was chapter one of our happily ever after. Now every morning both my dad and the shoe lady walk with me to the bus stop; he holds my right hand and she holds my left. From the bus window I watch them walk to work, their heads close together and their fingers intertwined, and my heart does a little dance.
The Elephant's Trunk 