OSIRIS

on his 75th birthday,
October 14th, 2000

by his grateful, proud & adoring daughter,
Jeannie Donaldson, ptl

My Parents immigrated to the USA from the Carribian Island of Cuba in the mid-40's.  It was a beautiful, civilized country where people helped one another, had pride in their heritage, love for their family and their flag.  It was a paradise where people came from all over the world to enjoy the  beautiful beaches, the wonderful Latin rythmns the warm tropical breezes and open hospitality. Sure, there were political problems there - name a place this side of Heaven where there are not... but that is NOT why my Daddy left his beautiful island home and his large loving family. Back then, no one had even heard of the madman we now know as Fidel Castro.  My Daddy and his new bride came to this country because it was long his aspiration to live the "American Dream" and to share it with the woman of his dreams, my mom.

I have the most wonderful memories of my visits to Cuba in the early years of my youth.  It was a treat I yearly looked forward to, spending time with my Daddy and Ma's family and being spoiled to death!  They were, by far, the best family times of my childhood, even though I somehow managed to fall out of bed and break my collar bone while there, and had the unforgetable experience of having several baths in a huge washtub OUTSIDE!!!  Now I have a good laugh over it, but at 6 it was the height of humiliation! I recall getting to choose two or three oranges right off the tree in my grandma's backyard to be squeezed into my morning juice (told ya I got spoiled!!)

Those were some of my best memories - the wonderful times sharing my parent's home, country and culture there with My Daddy and Ma, the whole large family of aunts, uncles, cousins, and Daddy's parents before Fidel Castro's outrageous, underhanded, absolutely maniacle "liberation" of Cuba which ended our yearly visits.  I never realized when I was still a child what an awful thing this meant to all of us.  The only memories of Cuba I have are the pictures we have in our albums and the priceless ones I still keep in my heart. After Castro's "liberation", we were never allowed to return.  My Daddy was not even permitted to attend his own Mama's funeral!  I was too young to really understand all the political implications, and the hushed tones when my parents spoke of it, but I will NEVER forget what a tremendous heart break my Daddy suffered being 11,000 miles from his home and His family to say goodbye to his Mama for the last time. It's the only time I can ever recall him cry. (In that culture and those days men just didn't show emotion this way.) I heard him (locked behind the bathroom door) and I felt so helpless because there was nothing I could do to comfort that strong, brave, and incredibly special man in my eyes.  I cried silently on the other side of the door.

If you have ever watched any of the episodes of “I Love Lucy,” my daddy sounds exactly like Ricky. In fact, when my children were little they often asked what "Dinpa" (the name they called my dad) was doing on TV!!??  You know, he really can jump back and forth between English and Spanish when he is upset just like Ricky did!

I was the firstborn. He'd hoped for a boy, so I owned more cowboy suits, boots and spurs, a few cowboy hats… and we'd "draw on each other" regularly.  He'd ask, "Howz eet goin' par'ner?" in his characteristicly broken English.  There'd be the usual "shootout" (boy could he play dead like a pro!).  But when all the sillyness was over,  he'd often throw me up in the air and ask, "Hooz the preetiest an' de smar'est li'l gal in de whole of de USA?" I was supposed to answer "I am, Daddy" with a cock-eyed wink… and then he'd wink back and remind me every chance he got, "An' ju bet'er neber forget eet!”, then snuggling me up , he'd whisper, almost to himself, "Don' ju eber let eny one tell ju dif'ren', OK, Par'ner?"  I didn't realize at such a tender age how very much those words meant - the great power they held for me.

I've been blessed with a wonderful Daddy who tried to LOOK harsh and stern when I was naughty, but it didn't take long to learn he was a teddy bear.  He always believed in me and always made me strive to do and be my best.

Oh how I loved dancing with him to all the marvelous Latin music.  Ma and Daddy's pals always said I was a pretty good Latin dancer for being such an unswerving patriotic, dyed in the wool,  "Old Glory" flying American. I'm proud to have been reared to love and respect this wonderful land they came to make their home when they were little more than children themselves. My daddy had limited formal education and was barely able to speak a word of English when he had his first sight of that Beautiful Lady of Freedom in NY Harbor, but he studied hard, and never used the excuse of being an immigrant to be comfortable as a failure.  Because of the limitations, he had to work two, even three times harder to prove himself.  And he did!  He rose to the top of a nationally prestigious Life/Health Insurance comany where he broke the record for top sales man of the year consecutively for many, many years.  He had the distinction of being a member of the $1,000,000,000 Club for more years than I can recall, right up until his retirement. Not only was he ambitious, hard-working, and determined to make his dream come true for all of us but more importantly he was a man of integrity and treated every customer as a personal friend always advising them what was in their BEST interest even if it meant a smaller commission for him.   He was honest, fair, and always there when they needed him, which means he was often long gone before I awoke and rarely came home before I'd been put to sleep. Those years were difficult & heavily competitive years for him.  He struggled to master a new language, while never settling for less than his best at his job.  At times it must have seemed an insurmountable task, BUT I NEVER HEARD HIM COMPLAIN!   We didn't have a lot of time to play together, but he made the most of every spare minute he had.  He taught me to ice skate, ride a bicycle, & all the rest of the things Daddy's teach their children.  He insisted that my sister and I learn to speak Spanish, tho' never allowing us to be confused about the fact that we were Americans!  Being bi-lingual has been a tremendous asset to us in our adult life though we balked at his & my mother's refusal to speak to us in English regularly for two or three days a week for most of our growing up years.  It was just expected that we be fluent and proficient in both languages.  And He expected no less of himself.  Tho' he still sounds like Ricky Ricardo, he has a better master of the English language than most natural born Americans.  He was, and still is an avid reader, increasing his vocabulary tremendously over the years.  He can mix and mingle comfortably with a sharecropper or a dignitary.  His warm and friendly way makes anyone dealing with him feel comfortable and at ease.  And he managed all that while being the BEST Daddy a girl could have ever wanted.  I KNOW my younger sister would agree. 

In the early years, we weren't starving, but we were poor, I guess, as the world would judge riches, but we never lacked for the essentials.  My sister and I had 12 years of private education, both winning scholarships to pursue further training in the areas of our choices. 

I remember when I was about 11 or so I asked him if he'd ever been sorry I wasn't a boy so I could have a paper route like other boys and help out, or if it would have been better if I'd waited a few more years to arrive - just till they could have gotten on their feet a little better. (we lived in a rented room with bath & kitchen privileges). He told me "NO!!" as he's told me many times since. He thought I was his lucky charm. When I was born, Daddy still had his job bussing tables at one of NYC's fancy restaurants making minimum wage and tips.  Working those long hard hours got him his first big break. He was offered his own grocery sales route - selling groceries and merchandise to the Mom and Pop family-owned grocery stores and markets.  (Remember, back then in the early 50's there were no supermarkets and the like).  He worked about as hard (except He was now home EVERY Sunday) but the pay was much, much better, plus we finally had some benefits.  Was I "his lucky charm"?  I doubt it, since I don't believe in such things, but it sure feels good to have heard him tell me that all these years.

By the time my baby Sister arrived in 1954 he was renting the entire top floor of a brick and shingled two-story with a huge basement on a corner lot (very prestigious in these days - gave a family a few more feet of back yard, and highly prized curb parking. As we grew, it was a really neat places to play hide and seek, kick the can, Mother May I?, hand ball on the garagedoor and building "igloos" after the BIG blizzards that kept us home for two days of driving mom crazy. She was more than glad to zip, tug, stuff, cap, and glove us up for a few hours of sunshine as soon as the weather permitted, and much needed REST for her!!

Back then, most moms stayed at home, and there was either one family car, or people used public transportation (buses and subways).  Except for the local butcher, baker, grocer, pharmacist, and everyone's favorite - the candy store owner, etc., the majority of dads worked in the city, far from the peaceful quietness of our suburban life.  Consequently, it was an oddity to see a car drive down our streets.  All of us on "the block" knew each other.  It was common to find us playing right in the middle of the street where all the mothers could keep an eye out on us.  We were just as likely to be scolded or punished by another child's mom as by our own.  We were like a great big family!  These were not the days of fancy gadgets or expensive toys... we entertained ourselves... WE made our own games: stick ball, hide-and-seek, Mother May I?, Red Rover, riding our bikes, and roller skating (with the all-important key to the adjustable skates hanging on a string around our necks).  Playing in the streets that formed the "T" I lived on, running thru each other's yards making up exciting adventures as we went along.  Winters brought snow ball fights team vs. team, and the biggest and best snowmen built as a group.  Refreshments came from one or more mom - warm home-made bread and jam, fresh fruit, or cookies right out of the oven - and depending on the season, a cold glass of milk, a hot mug of cocoa, or that brand new red drink: Kool Aide. THOSE WERE THE DAYS!!!

But the best part of the day was when Daddy'd come home and we'd play cowboys and Indians.  The sofa became a hideout from which we could shoot our way to safety.  The chair a bush or tree from where we could surprise the bad guys.  Sometimes Daddy was the horse (poor Daddy!) I'd ride out of Dodge on... and he never complained about being too tired, or wanting to read his paper.  But looking back on it now, I can better understand how I came to think that watching "The Lone Ranger" (there are a few more I will try to get the names of)   snuggled up on my Daddy's lap was a good alternative to fighting the bad guys & other such "rough housing" we did. It almost seems like yesterday "my par'ner" and I were having those wonderful times - making those unforgetable memories.

 I'm the mushy sentimental one in the family, so this could go on for pages.  I'll try to contain myself.  But I wouldn't want to end this trip down memory lane without recalling some of the defining moments of my life - some of the many times my Daddy gave me advice and counsel,  and was there, without reproach,  to help pick up the pieces when I insisted on doing it my way...  and the countless times he was there to love and support me when the going got tough.

The day I graduated from High School, he told me never to forget who I was and the proud family heritage from which I came: generations of hard-working, creative, intelligent men and women who left their marks.  He challenged me to use my mind and education, my talents & skills to better myself and better the world around me.  He made me belive that the world should be a better place for my having been in it.

Dad and I at my Graduation

On my wedding day, just as the limo pulled up to take Daddy and me to the church. He hugged me and asked me if I was absolutely sure that THIS was what I wanted to do.  He said as he looked me straight in the eyes, "You can walk away now and nothing will be hurt, but once you walk down that aisle and say I do, that's sacred and it's forever."  I said, "What about all the food, the family, the caterers?" "Don't you worry about that - we'll go have a big party with all our family & friends we haven't seen in years... you just need to be sure this is what you want FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!"  What a wise Daddy and what a stubborn fool of a daughter.  I was determined to go through with it, though deep in my heart I had so many, doubts.  "You'll never know Daddy how the little girl in me just wanted to hide myself in your big, strong arms and beg you to take me away from the mess I had gotten myself into.  But I was too proud to admit I was wrong, and too immature to realize what I was REALLY doing."  I'd have spared myself & my two oldest children a lot of pain and grief if I'd been sensitive to my Daddy's  warning, and heeded his counsel.  Just months earlier he told me several times that I was too young to marry, and not ready for a life-long commitment."  I have a terrific son and a lovely daughter of whom I'm proud from that union, but it was one of the greatest mistakes I ever made.  Yet my Daddy proudly, & lovingly walked me down the aisle, and "gave me away" at the most beautiful, & wonderful wedding a girl could have wanted.

My Wedding

When my "husband" returned from Vietnam and preferred to be free of me and the children, free to live with another woman... it was my Daddy who flew up to where we were, had my car checked out, put new tires on it, rented a U-haul for our things and brought us home to live free in one of his apartments, arranged for me to do my laundry free, and had all 15 other tenants looking out for me.  They all rejoiced when they saw the mailman they all loved and trusted take an interest in me.  Friendship led to romance, and once again my Daddy gave me away.  He's always the jokester... He told my husband as they shook hands after the ceremony, "This package is stamped "return postage NOT guaranteed".  We still laugh over that one, almost 28 years ago.

 
My Dad and my daughters

My Daddy's biggest disappointment is that I gave up my full scholarship & the chance to become a professional woman.  But I hope I've made him proud in having given him three fine grandchildren who have also all married and made homes for themselves producing 9 great-grandchildren, (with two more coming along about May, 2001)

 
Dad & Mom

Me, my daughters & grandchildren

Several strokes have left Daddy unable to live the active life he used to live.  He was very faithful and actively involved in his church.  He also was a dedicated volunteer at the local Christian Radio station where he did a little of everything.  Needless to say, the strokes altered the activity and quality of his life - but have in no way diminished his zest for life, his love for us, his family , and his devotion to God.  Where many have quit - he keeps on keeping on,  & does so with the same fervor and determination he's lived his whole life.  He never was, and never will be a quitter! 

All too often we wait to say words of tribute such as these at a graveside or a funeral. 

"Daddy, I want you to know now, how much I love you, how proud I am of who you are, what you have stood for, what you have made of your life, and how very blessed and honored I have been to have a man like you as my Daddy." 

He and Ma live over 500 miles away, so we only see each other yearly.  As I approach my 50th birthday, I am increasingly aware of the gap the lack of his daily presence has left in my life.  I am grateful for the wealth of memories we have had, and hopefully will continue to make.  Thank God for phones and email that have kept my relationship with my parents less painfully long-distance.  I look forward to their upcoming visit for Christmas and the memories we'll be adding to all of our hearts.

Dad, Mom, my three children

Thank you Heavenly Father for the Daddy You gave me to cuddle and love me as a baby, play with me and teach me how to ride my bike, play checkers, swim, roller skate and ice skate and the many other things little girls do with their Daddy's.  I'm grateful for the blessing to have had him to lead me into womanhood, to instill in me a sense of right and wrong, a deep respect and love for this great land and her flag, and most importantly how to love, honor, & live for You.  I ask You to bless him and keep him safe & well.  Restore & repair the damage done by the strokes.   I ask that You would allow him to be in good health, & strength & presence of mind so he can greet the newest great-grandchild due in May.  And I pray it is in Your will... to one day hold his great-great-grandchildren still to come.  For it would be a shame for any of this younger generation to have grown up without the same love and encouragement, and example my sister and I, and our 6 children have had because of him.  I praise the name of Your precious Son, & in His name I ask this blessing.  Amen