William Penn Life, 1984 (19. évfolyam, 1-4. szám)
1984-04-01 / 2. szám
For Father's Day Memories of Growing Up With My Dad — Some Rambling Thoughts By Barb Botkin The main thing I remember about my Dad as I was growing up was that whenever he gave an order to any of us kids, we carried it out shaking in our boots all the while (especially if it was the second time he had to tell us). I suffered from trepidation a lot as a kid . . . but especially when my Dad was at home, which wasn’t too often because he was at meetings almost nightly. Talk about a busy schedule, Dad never left the house later than 8 A.M. He’d be home from 5 to 6:30 P.M. to eat dinner and read the paper (he usually fell asleep while reading the paper) then off he was to a meeting. Breakfast time was always a bummer, particularly in the summer, because Dad would ask me every day, “What’s on your schedule for today? What’s your agenda for the week?” I’d think to myself, “I’m only an eight year old kid, I don’t know what I’m gonna be doing in the next hour let alone the whole day or the entire week.” At supper time, the same questions were reiterated, only in the past tense. “What did you do today?” “Oh, I said, the usual—played dodge ball, soft ball, and tripoly with the gang.” “Did you read anything today?”, he’d ask. “Uh, yeah,” I answered. “I read Nancy and Sluggo and The Family Circus and also the top of the front page of the paper where it says it’s gonna be sunny and warmer tomorrow.” After I said it, I thought uh-oh, I should have made something up about President Eisenhower’s trip to Europe or some such news. I knew what was coming. “I want you to start reading all the stories on the front page of the paper,” Dad ordered. Each night, I’ll ask you questions about what you read.” “Oh, yuk,” I thought. I was lucky though. That kick only lasted a couple of weeks because Dad had an especially hectic schedule for the next couple of months. I remember some of the chores Dad used to give me to do. His favorite was “Barb, I want you to police the grounds today.” “Oh, yuk,” I’d think. Do you know what policing the grounds is? It’s picking up the garbage in the yard . . . and since we had a bus stop in front of our house, a lot of trash would fly onto our lawn. I thought I was the only kid in the world who had to “police the grounds.” And I would just die of embarrassment if any of my friends saw me picking up garbage. As stern as my father was, I remember so many times when I expected him to be angry, he showed compassion and kindness . . . like when my brother wrecked the car for the third time. Dad always said he was just so thankful A1 wasn’t hurf. And it seemed every week, my brother would come home with some new contraption on the Mustang, one time racing stripes, another time a horn that went “uh-ooga, uh-ooga,” and a string of other surprises. But Dad never got mad. Dad has always been a man dedicated to preserving his Hungarian heritage. In addition to his planning and promoting fraternal activities for the Hungarian people of the Pittsburgh area, Dad was always bringing home Hungarian refugees to do odd jobs around the house. Or he would find employment for them. You know how our motto in this country is “Buy American!”, well, Dad’s motto has always been “Hire Hungarian!” Dad’s been a workaholic ever since I can remember. Even on his day off, he’d work at our country home in Ligonier. And so, it never surprised me that he would fall asleep at the most inappropriate times and places from downright weariness. You know where; meetings, church. And at home on holidays, he’d be sitting in a chair listening to conversation or reading, and just doze off. Do you remember the old Adventure Time TV show with Paul Shannon? The Three Stooges were a regular feature on the show and Dad and I would enjoy watching them together while my Mom was getting dinner ready. I think I enjoyed listening to Dad laugh ’til the tears came more than I enjoyed watching the Stooges. His laugh is the loudest, most unique I have ever heard. Dad loves to read and has always kept up on the latest news. He’s a great saver of newspapers and business magazines. If you ever need an article for reference from a 1962 copy of Newsweek, forget the Carnegie Library, you can find it in my parents’ basement. When I was away at college, Dad was forever sending me newspaper or magazine clippings of timely interest. Usually they were articles which echoed things that he had been preaching to me for years. He’s always been a great predictor of trends and events of the future. (He still sends me articles in the mail). One of the funniest things I recall about Dad was that he never could remember how old any of his children were or what grade we were in. I remember when my Mom and Dad drove down to my college to take me out for my birthday. Dad asked me at dinner, “How old are you today?” “20,” I answered. I thought he would fall off of his chair. “Dad,” I said, I am a junior. How old did you expect me to be?” I just watched him sort of stare into space for a moment. I imagined what he was thinking ... his baby, his last child . . . already 20 . . . where had the years gone? P.S. ... of course he might have been thinking “Hot diggety, only one more year to have to pay college tuition. Then maybe that Botkin boy will marry her.” My Dad’s always been a very articulate quotable person and he enjoys spouting off quotes of others whom he admires. I think the advice that will stick with me forever that I began hearing at an early age, is “You’ve got to have a plan fór your life. Nothing happens unless you make it happen.” Ah, dear old Dad; the one who walked me into my first grade class everyday and chatted with my teacher until I felt secure, the one who took our family on the greatest trip ever across the United States by car, the one who trusted me enough at the age of 16 to let me go to New York City with my two girlfriends. (We stayed in the penthouse suite of the YWCA), the successful one who still thinks that CHIC is wearing a gold lame jacket with plaid pants, the one who has always been in a hurry and will never change for he simply must cram 30 hours worth of activity into a 24 hour day. To you, Dad, Happy Father’s Day with love! DON’T BLOW YOUR COOL Too many things to do? Too little time to do them? That’s the usual state of affairs. But the problem can be licked if you put first things first in the order of importance and complete them one by one. It’s surprising how much you can do with this simple formula, even during summer vacation ... 1 5
