Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day, B1

And Happy Father's Day to J too, of course, and Shoeshine- but to paraphrase J's mantra over the years. "you're not my father."

My father's name is Bob, but he signs his emails to the family either B1 (my brother is B2) or TorseyBob, after the lake in Maine where we spent so many summers. We all look forward to his daily notes telling us what the weather is in RI, what idiocy the state government is up to lately, and noting family birthdays and updates. My mother doesn't 'do' email, so if B1's letter doesn't show up by noon, we get a little worried.

He was a typical 1950's dad, he worked and my mother stayed home with the 5 kids, until we were a little older and she worked part-time now and then. I assume it was because they needed extra money, but I also suspect she was happy to get out of the house sometimes!

We have a lot of photos of my father and of us growing up because his father took photos and developed them himself. After Papa B died and everyone had the ones they wanted, I inherited the bulk of the old pictures because someone had to give them a home.

It's very clear when you see photo after photo that little B1 was used to posing, sometimes artfully gazing off into space, or grinning for the camera.
My father and his sister

This was in his back yard and that's the high school in the background,where my grandfather taught and later was principal. The next picture was taken from the roof of that school, where he and his parents would watch for enemy planes over the bay during WWII.

                Later on, he became a wizard

          No, sadly he did not. He was a mailman.

That black station wagon is the car I remember most growing up. I'm sure we had more than one of them, since I also remember learning to drive in one. My father doesn't like thunderstorms, and would often pack us all into the car and drive around for the duration. I think the theory was the rubber tires would keep us safe from lightning- either that or just a moving target is harder to hit.  I remember lying in the wayback, in the warm summer darkness, watching the lightning, and trying to guess where we were by the turns and looking at the tops of  the trees.

We needed a station wagon with our 1960's family.
In the back, #2, me and #3. #4 is on the left and #5 on the right. I assume you can tell the big people are my parents.

My parents taught J and me a lot about building, as did J's dad. Here we are helping them build their camp on Torsey Pond. This was right about the time he was diagnosed with bladder cancer, which was successfully treated. Yay!

My family has a collective great sense of humor and I so appreciate that. This is one of my favorite pictures. I took this at a family reunion/50th wedding anniversary party for my parents. This is (either first or middle names):

                     Bob Bob Bob, Bob and Fran.
                     Did you say the names out loud? Ha!

Anyway, even though we don't say this aloud often in my family (shades of stoic Yankee and reserved Swedish ancestors) I love you and Happy Father's Day!


Anonymous said...

Thank you very much for the memories! They were good times, on the whole, weren't thry!!!
Those were the days, my friend!
We hoped they'd never end.

In Real Life said...

I like your new blog look!

This is a really sweet post! I love the photos! What a special father!