Happy Birthday Dad
Dad would have been 90 years old today. He was born in Newcastle, Washington in 1921 in a coal mining camp. The second son to George and Pauline Fabre. As a young boy he was inspired to be an accordion player like his Uncle Pete Delaurenti. That was in the midst of the Great Depression and money was scarce. But his Grandma Céline Boulanger believed in him, bought the accordion, and helped him pay for lessons.
Like all boys, there were times I wanted to be just like him, and times I didn’t (especially in the 60’s during the English Invasion). Yet time passed and I became a dad myself. As the saying goes, he got a lot smarter as I got older. Then more time passes and I find myself in my mid 40’s. I was getting ready for work one morning when it hit me. I looked in the mirror and, “Oh my God, I’m turning into the old man!”
It’s a guy thing… Towards the end of his life he was kind of a caricature of himself. Simply put, a real character who lovingly (and sometimes frustratingly) bordered on the eccentric. He identified so strongly with the working man, but in all reality I don’t think he had a clue what their day was like. He was so totally oblivious as to how different his life experience was compared to their’s.
Dad and Uncle Pete before WWII
He didn’t work a factory job 40 hours a week Monday through Friday like most. He would have worked them into the ground. Dad taught music lessons 5 and 6 days a week from his home studio and played clubs 4, 5, and 6 nights a week. He wasn’t the big flashy Mr. Hollywood or Las Vegas type entertainer. He was a dedicated musician who if the truth be known, was quite shy.
Dad and brother Steve circa @ 1961
Yet, when he picked up his accordion and started to play the room was transformed. For the next few hours the toil and trouble of life was totally forgotten and the crowd was wisked away into a Twilight Time of joy and dancing. I witnessed this magic for several decades and it never ceased to amaze me.
He probably worked too hard and burned the candle at both ends. Yet he couldn’t have done it any other way I’m certain. He was simply wired that way, driven, always on a mission with urgency, always striving to be better. Yet somehow, he always managed to make time for us. Dad passed away in 1998 and I have to admit it seems weird when I realize he’s been gone for 13 years.
He was quiet spoken man except when he got mad. Fair, humble, honest, frugal, he’d help anyone if they needed it. Dad was a loyal Republican. He believed that was his best chance to keep the government’s hand out his pocket as he used to say. He’d always joke about his vote getting canceled because Mom was a Democrat.
Dad was a great story teller and I especially loved the ones about World War II. He had some amazing adventures and served under Patton with distinction. It wasn’t until years later that I connected the dots and realized he never talked about the bad one’s like the Normandy Invasion, Battle of the Bulge, and the liberation of the death camps.
Dad @ mid 60’s… (while I was in High School)
He could get pretty upset about little things sometimes, yet when something big happened he took it all in stride. I remember when I was 15 and snuck the car out on a rainy Sunday morning to do my paper route. I got the right back wheel stuck in a ditch and had to walk a couple of miles home. I woke him up to tell him what happened knowing I was gonna die but he didn’t say a word until we were about half way there. Driving Mom’s car he kept looking straight ahead, nodded his head a few times and said in a quiet voice, “You know… You do some pretty dumb things sometimes.” That’s all he said, but the silence was deafening and my heart sank realizing I had disappointed him.
Dad started up his 52 Plymouth, rocked it back and forth a few times and got it out of the ditch. It didn’t dawn on me how we were going to get two cars back home. “You got it here, you’ll drive it back.” And away we went. Of course when we got home Mom wasn’t so quiet about the incident.
Now it’s my turn already. I’m the oldest guy now. The kids are grown and I wonder about the childhood stories they share.
Happy Birthday Dad.
Thanks. I’m glad we got to talk.
9 months ago