My first Father’s Day without my Pops. It doesn’t feel right to not be able to pick up the phone and call him. What would we talk about? Probably baseball. The St. Louis Cardinals; I’m a fan, he’s not. He’d make sure I knew they were accused of “hacking” the Astros and probably say something about “that’s probably why they’ve been so good”… as if hacking the Astros could actually improve an MLB team. He’d complain about the Reds. Every time he thinks they’re going to get it together they find a way to lose and disappoint him. I think mostly he just liked complaining about them.
He’d ask about Parker. “How’s my grandbaby?” “Is he talking, yet?” “Does he have all his baby teeth?” “You sure it’s a good idea he’s learning 4 languages?… that’s probably why he’s not talking yet”. “Kiss him for me”. “Can’t wait to see that little stinker”. I know that’s what he’d say.
He’d ask about my job. If I was traveling for work. If I was working too much. I’d usually lie and so no, “just work”. He didn’t know what I did, just “computer stuff” but he’d want to be sure I was being treated fairly and that I wasn’t letting work get in the way of my life and my family.
We’d talk about politics. About the recent announcements for presidential hopefuls. I don’t know who he’d support. Even being from Kentucky I can’t imaging him as a Rand Paul fan; I know he wasn’t a Ron Paul fan. I’m sure it wouldn’t be Hillary. “We’ve had enough Clinton”, I can hear him saying. We used to talk about politics a lot more than we did the past couple years. As a subject it just became less important to our conversations, though, still almost always present.
He’d ask when I’m coming to Kentucky to visit. “Don’t be too long”, he’d say. That was the common theme of almost all our conversations of the past 2 years. He didn’t say it make me feel guilty, though it did. He said it because he meant it. He wanted to see me, his baby boy, his little stinker.