I hadn’t seen my Dad in a while. So I invited him to lunch. I had always wanted to be able to afford to buy him a nice lunch. He had bought me so many.
I knew him. I better get there extra early to make sure I gave them my credit card ahead of time so there was no confusion as to who was buying. My father being a wonderful gentleman might reach for the check.
Traffic was bad, parking was bad. So I got there only twenty minutes early. Figured I had 5 minutes to spare but as I walked up the staircase – there he was just sitting down just outside the restaurant.
My Dad. Three piece suit. Watch chain. Bowler hat in winter. Straw hat in Summer. I think the change date for summer is May 1 so Dad was wearing his bowler hat which he gets from his habdashery in England – a store that had been there for three centuries.
Yes. They don’t make ‘em any more like my Dad.
We hugged warmly. He had not aged a minute since I had last seen him.
We walked into the restaurant – my father’s favorite for lunch. I surreptiously gave the Maitre D’ my credit card while my Dad handed another person his hat to guard.
They led us to….not my father’s table. The new guy had given it away but we would be just next door. Hmmm.
We sat down and Dad made a comment in jest and then said: Are they still there?
Me: I could go glare at them. And I imitated Chuck’s very funny General glare.
We laughed. Nothing was going to spoil our lunch.
I gave Dad a copy of Yeager signed by….Yeager. Dad loves to read biographies and autobiographies – very well read. He hadn’t read this one yet. Or graciously said so.
Dad gave me a photo of him and me when we gave a painting to the Lower School at Shipley when I was President of the Lower School. Great photo!
We reminisced about some wonderful times. My parents took us to Europe often.
One year, Dad had hired a driver to drive us (6 of us) thru the Alps. The driver said: But sir! That is a 10 hour drive and that’s for an Italian driver!
Fortunately, my father had learned a few Italian words – one was lente, lente, (slowly, slowly) or basta basta (enough, enough) or piano, piano (softly, softly) – to slow the driver down when we were driving – almost flying- thru the cloud on the curvy mountain with the cliff you couldn’t see.
We had arrived at Villa D’Este on Lago de Como. While having dinner there, the Duchesse at the next table was a little warm so she asked the staff to lower the windows. The whole restaurant was encased in windows and so the switch was turned and down came the windows/walls. And a little later, the Duchesse got a little chill, so up came the window/walls.
We stayed in manor houses in England so really got to know the local population and had some lifelong friendships.
One year we crossed the Atlantic with friends of my mother’s – the Duke and Duchess of Windsor – on the Michelangelo. I loved the style of those crossings. The movie Titanic gives the flavor.
We really got to see Europe at the tail end of some fascinating history and elegance.
We chatted about our respective visits to Africa and our impressions. Dad had seen a photo of my husband and me – Dad could see we were very happy. And that made Dad happy.
We told parts of jokes- we both knew the jokes we meant so we didn’t have to tell the whole joke to burst out laughing.
My father, like my husband, is a great story-teller. Also very funny, well-read and intelligent.
I told Dad some of the sayings he had told us as kids that stuck with me– and how I repeat them often. And I reminisced about many of the places in Phila to which he took us after church or on a drive. He would put the four of us in the back of his 1949 convertible Cadillac with Mom in the front and we’d go to see the Liberty Bell or Independence Hall or the Swedish Church or Valley Forge.
They’d take us to plays even on school nights – part of our education. And then they’d take us to an ice cream parlor on Second Street. Hot fudge sundaes. Mom loved banana splits.
We’d get home late, and Dad would carry his sleepy daughter to her room. Mom would come in a help me change into pajamas.
Dad reminded me of his visit with my mother and one of my brothers to me while I was studying in Paris. Regarding one instance, I had felt it my duty to protect my Dad from someone trying to cheat him. I spoke French and handled it.
When Dad finished the story, I commented: I haven’t changed.
We laughed.
As we were leaving, Dad thanked me for lunch. I told him I had always wanted to be in a position to buy him lunch at a nice place.
I didn’t really want it to end – I wanted to hear more stories and ask more questions. That’s a good way to leave.
As Dad got in the car to take him back to his office, I said: Hold on, let’s get a photo.
I couldn’t find my phone right away, so I said: Well, we’ll just have to have lunch again so we can get a picture.
He said: All right. And the next one’s on me!
And smiled.
I smiled right back: Okay.