Today would be Daddy's 75th birthday. I met him as a very youthful 23-year old battle-scarred U.S. Marine. He was my roommate's supervisor at the other end of the huge Naval Annex building where we worked in Arlington, Virginia. Pat and I would meet for coffee breaks, and she would regale me with funny stories of Sam and Jim Bailey and Frank Malizia and their goings-on. One time Frank, who ended up married to another of my friends, Kathleen Daly, asked Pat if she would like two tickets to "Fanny," a hit Broadway production and she shrieked, "Oh yes," and he handed her two pieces of toilet paper -- she said the whole corridor of offices heard her out-of-control laughing and everyone joined in. Incidentally, Frank recently called Pat and asked her the same question and once again, they had a good laugh. I, in my serious and somber office of Naval officers, had no excitement, so was drawn to the fun that they were having at the other end of the building with the wild and crazy Marines.
And the rest is history. We met. We fell in love. We married. We had a family. We retired. And one of us died.
Happy Birthday, Sam. We all miss you here. You left way too soon.
Never heard that story before, Mom. Lovely, lovely. Thanks.
Happy Birthday, Daddy! I don't think I've ever heard that story before either. Good one.
You made me cry, Mama. I loved the story. Happy Birthday, Daddy. I still think of him often.
I just showed my roommates what a handsome man Grandpa was. That was a wonderful story. Happy Birthday Grandpa!
Mama, I never heard that story before, either. Daddy is never far from my thoughts, especially this past week knowing that his birthday was coming up. I told Joe last night, while we were looking at the calendar to check for doctor's appts, that tomorrow was my Daddy's birthday. My sweet Joe, who is so LITERAL, said "But your daddy is dead. We can't celebrate. If he wasn't dead, we could celebrate his birthday tomorrow." I know we could celebrate anyway, but it isn't the same. At times, I still find it hard to believe that he is gone.
How absolutely wonderful! Such power in those last few words...love remains...tears surface.
Beautiful sentiments. I still miss Daddy as much now as I did October 2003. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of him. I am so sorry that his grandchildren are growing up without him.
Beautiful story.
Happy Birthday Uncle Sam
How could Uncle Sam not know how much he was loved!! You have such an eloquent way with words. Thanks for my morning tears. Happy Birthday Uncle Sam!
I finally got around to looking at this entry. And reading all of the comments too. It is a lovely story, Mom. It was evident that you always loved Dad and whatever he talked about was interesting to you. I like this picture of him. It shows how much I look like him.
I met Sam first before he met his future wife. He was my friend in my office in the Navy Annex. He would bum cigarettes from me as it got closer to payday. One day Ginnie came to my office to pick me up after work. I introduced her to Sam. That very night he called and asked if "me and my friend would like to go out with he and his friend." I don't remember if I even asked if she wanted to go but I sure did because I had my eye on Sam's friend. Ginnie and I were not sure who was supposed to be with who so on the way to the nightclub we sat together in the back seat. Well by the end of the evening it was very clear that Sam was smitten with Virginia. He had taken one look at her and fallen in love!!! That was the beginning of the romance and it was all because of me. I was Sam's friend first. So a belated Happy Birthday to Sam. I miss him too.
Pat
Hi Miss Pat. Good to see you here and thanks for the delightful story. Us kids have never heard these.