Page 67 - WhyAsInY

WHo are tHese PeoPle? (Part 2)
of the horrendous trolley car accident each time that I needed tending to, I do know that the story was told in connection with at least a few of my more severe medical encounters. Finally, I believe that the telling of the story was a way of imparting optimism and comforting me. More important, it may have been a way of bonding with me, a way of letting me know that he had vulnerabilities and made mistakes, a way of human- izing him, permitting me to identify with him—and letting me in. Or perhaps it was just a story that he liked to tell, and I’m imposing my own yearnings on the reality.
Neither my father nor my mother was a hugger. While my mother would bestow the routine kisses on me, my father did not, at least not after I was a little boy. While he could tell a story or entertain me with tricks involving playing cards or rubber bands, he was not a talker, not a “heart-to-heart” kind of person, at least when it came to me. I search and search my memory and cannot recall one real conversation that we ever had. But maybe that’s the way that all parents were when I grew up. Maybe that’s the way that I was with my own children or, anyway, the way that they’ll remember it. I hope not.
There were certainly some moments of closeness that I do recall and almost cherish. For some reason, I clearly recall having what I view as my first catch with my dad. I was probably six or seven, and it took place on Uncle Aaron’s tennis court. I was dazzled by Dad’s ability to take my weaker throws on the short hop, and I recall how pleased that he was when he did so. As I understood it, Dad was a pretty good athlete in his youth and played second base on his post’s team when he was in the army. I know that he must have played catch with me at other times—there is one home movie where he and I are tossing a football back and forth on a camp visiting day—but I can’t recall any. Maybe that’s just because there was no place near our house for him to do it, maybe that’s because the first occasion is the only one that is important enough to remember, and maybe it’s because it didn’t happen over the years, at least with any frequency.
I know that we did talk a fair amount about sports, primarily base- ball. As I mentioned above, both he and I were Yankees fans, which set
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