Three years ago today, we lost a lifelong Liberal Democrat to a stroke at the age of 76. He was an extaordinary man. He is my Daddy.
Anthony Andrew was born to a blue collar family in Cleveland, OH. Both parents were immigrants to this country. They were not Italian, Dad just happened to be born near St. Anthony's day. He was their 4th child. They were soon to lose their 3rd child to diptheria. Dad was the rebel, their black sheep. He refused to wear wool pants--he was allergic to them. Wearing corduroys to church just wasn't done, but Dad did. He was never one to put up with any bullshit or anything irrational.
He went to one day of Catholic Boys High School and refused to go back. Despite my Grandmother's hysteria, he won--he graduated from a public High School, John Hay High. One day later he was drafted.
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Dad and his best friend Red wanted to join the Navy, but Grandma and Grandpa would not sign the papers to allow him to do this before graduation, so he was drafted. He and Red waited in line, a guy took every other man and they became Marines--one of these men was my Dad.
Dad had his first encounter with racism when he boarded the train for Parris Island. The Cleveland kids all sat together. When the train crossed the Mason-Dixon line, the train stopped. The Black kids were told they had to go sit in the "Colored" car. Dad was aghast. He sat frozen, not knowing what to do.
He had been teased in High School for taking some clerical courses in typing and short hand--girly courses....but they probably saved his life as he became the aide to an officer. Half of his buddies were sent to Iwo Jima, the other half to Okinawa. None of those sent to Iwo Jima survived. He was the last to get into the launch at Okinawa. He almost had his legs smashed, the seas were pitiching so much. One of his buddies finally grabbed him and pulled him into the launch after Dad had climbed up and down the ropes several times. Dad had the combination for the safe where the strategies were all held. It was Easter Sunday when they landed. The blood that was shed was juxtaposed with the thousands of white Easter Lilies that bloomed on the shore. After the end of the war, he witnessed the treaty signing, he spent the rest of his time in the service in China. The pictures he brought home are incredible.
When it was time to go home, he was put on a Merchant Marine ship. He almost starved to death--the Captain absconded with the money meant to feed the US Marines. They would walk by Dad with platters filled with food for the Captain and crew--none for the Marines. He was dropped off in San Francisco. His father had died at the age of 52 while Dad was in the war. They would not grant him bereavement leave. Dad had his pay sent to Grandma to help her. He had no money to get home. He went to the Red Cross for help--they refused (he hated the Red Cross 'til the day he died and I remain wary of them. He had to sell one of the few momentos he had of China--a Jade ring to get home.
He began his career at International Harvestor, started college at night and met my Mom. They married and eventually had me. Dad wanted a girl, he got one. He graduated from college on my sixth birthday. I still remember going to watch him and how proud I was. He was the first of his family to go to college, the first and only of his siblings.
He was a difficult man at times, very exacting. His temper could be used to control those around him. But he was also so much more. He loved me, encouraged me to be anything I wanted to be--no boundaries. He wanted to be a teacher--something I would become. He valued education and was so extremely proud that I received a Ph.D. He had a beautiful voice and gorgeous handwriting. He always smelled sooooo good. He was always impecably dressed. He danced with incredible grace, he laughed easily and was the toast of every party. He love vodka and tonics, animals, people. He loved to argue with you even if you agreed with him. He was a very loud and proud liberal. He believed in equality for all people. He opened his heart to my gay and lesbian friends. I remember going to a wedding of a friend of his--must have been in the late 1960s-- his friend, a co-worker was black, his wife-to-be, white. Some people at work would not attend. We went--and there was never one word said--just acceptance and good cheer for this couple.
He loved playing volleyball with people my age, working. He spent the last ten years of his life working with the developmentally disabled. He even went back to college and earned a certificate in Social Services and was a member of an honor society. He LOVED musical theatre. I have seen hundreds of productions because Dad so loved the theatre. We had a large collection of albums of all types--he loved music. He adored Christmas. He would buy us so many presents it took hours to open them all. He wasn't a good traveller, but loved telling stories after we got back home!!!
Dad had his first stroke in early February a year before he died. I moved in with my folks to take care of him. He worked so hard to recover. He was so brave and usually upbeat. The staff at HealthSouth have my undying affection for all they did. But Dad's worse nightmare came true, he was a prisoner in his own body. He willed himself to die I think. Once the year was over and he wasn't improving, he got angry, belligerent. Mom took the brunt of it. Then that fateful night, we were putting him to bed--he was mad about something. Mom said "I love you anyway." to him then asked "Do you love me?" Clear as a bell, he answered "I love you very much." and then repeated it to me. That night he had another stroke and he died a week later. I had to make the choice to withdraw the feeding tube and fluids, just like Terry Shiavo's husband, but I had Dad's living will and his clear wishes. And no media circus, no hypocrites trying to stop me.
I am the person I am in large part because of this man and his influence on me. He faught for the things that the Republicans are tearing apart. I must in his memory continue to fight--for my country and my Dad's. Daddy, I miss you more each day.
"You're my best Beau, you're handsome and brave and strong. There's nothing we two can't face. If you're with me, whatever comes, we'll see that trouble never comes. And if someday when everything turns out wrong, you're through with the human race. Come running to me, For you'll always be, my best Beau." our song from Mame