FATHER'S DAY

            You hear a lot about bonding: mother/daughter, father/ son, and mother/ infant is universal.  Rarely, however, do you hear about mother/son or father/daughter bonding.

            I grew up knowing that my parents had a loveless marriage. They slept in different rooms. Mother said that daddy snored, but he didn't. Only the wall between our rooms separated the heads of our beds, and I never heard a thing. I witnessed the way she turned her head so that infrequent attempts by my father to kiss her would land on her cheek.

            My father was not home much during World War II. He frequently traveled to New York to buy yard goods, and occasionally took me with him.  He also belonged to a men's club, where he played Pinochle or Bridge on Tuesdays and Saturdays. To me he was shadowy entity: an affectionate, and adoring man who called me princess, and hugged and kissed me frequently. His love for me was apparent, but when I went to work for him as his secretary and full time model, my feelings for him changed; beside love, there was admiration.

At the plant, he was a different person from the one banished to the basement recreation room to smoke his cigar. His employees, and his customers revered him, and he loved a laugh. When his office was filled with buyers, he'd shout," Rosalie, come in and bring your pad." The gag ended when he'd motion me to his knee then introduce me as his daughter. I began to really know this giant of business because I worked with him, traveled with him and saw respect in the eyes of the people with whom He dealt.  W

when I dropped out of college, I went to business school instead. Within nine months, I was making a living working for my dad. It was the best thing I ever did because it made me appreciate my father for what he was, not what he seemed to be. He died too young, at 64, and I miss him every day, especially around Father's Day.

MY FATHER

My father was a quiet man,

His nature was calm and mild.

My father was a gentle man,

Who always wore a smile.

My father was a placid man,

Who never made a row.

A quiet man… oh, how I wish,

He could be with me now.

My father was a special man,

Esteemed in his business life.

My father excelled in commerce,

But wasn't valued by his wife.

My father didn't worry though,

He always wore a smile.

A quiet man, a loving man,

He lived too short a while.

Rosalie Kramer is a freelance writer, a poet and an author. Her book "Dancing in the Dark" was published in 2001, and her poetry, articles and short stories have appeared in many newspapers and magazines. She is a member of the Press Club of North San Diego County, and the National League of American Pen Women.