My father, Bob Baldridge, by jean yates
I write about him a lot so much of this you may have heard, but possibly you have not, so here's to my father on Father's day.
1)I adored and continue to adore my father. He died in 2005, quietly in his favourite chair, as he was making a phone call to me. He had gone to church right before (he liked to go in the winter on Saturday afternoons , so he could relax at home and read the New York Times on Sunday mornings in cold weather). It was February. Therefore he was all ready to go right up to Heaven when he died. The priest had asked him on the way out from church that Saturday (my father was in a lot of pain from prostate cancer) as he shook his hand, "How are you Bob?" and my father said, "I'm better now!" With his amazing, sweet smile.
2) I would have answered the phone as I always did when he called that evening but I was on the phone with one of my kids. I was too dumb to know how to work the flash/hold button. But I later heard his call on our answering machine. It was quite phenomenal and my father's last gift to me of so many gifts he gave me.
3) When my father was a little boy, he was considered frail, He grew up to be 6' 3" and very strong. A wrestler and a squash player. However, when little, he was sent every winter on a train by himself all the way from Omaha, Nebraska, to go to Florida, where his beloved grandmother "BaWa" lived, to attend Catholic school with Al Capone Jr. and Desi Arnaz, who was a very popular older student (who already had a band). This was in Miami, which was barely developed. We owned land there but later had to sell it. If we hadn't had to sell it during the depression, who knows who I would be now? Somebody a LOT richer, that's for sure! Incidentally "BaWa" had divorced my father's grandfather, run off to Paris for a year, and returned to
bring smoking for women back to Omaha. However in my father's eyes she was wonderful. I sometimes wonder if we have a french half-relative in Paris we do not know about, but no one discusses that sort of thing.
4) Due to the years in Miami and also due to his terrible bouts of hay fever, my father had to give up his early dreams of becoming a cowboy like his older brother Mac and became a skin diver instead. He was excellent at this as he never smoked so he could hold his breath a really long time. He would skin dive along the jetties near our beach club and also under the Atlantic Beach Bridge, with the noise of the cars echoing above us in deafening manner. If he wanted to, he always caught a striper with his speargun. I would watch for his head to re-emerge after he went under water, and a plume of water from his snorkel would always signify where he was about to surface, and it was
never where I expected. our dog Josie would bark hysterically. For some reason, we thought he needed protecting, but he never did. All his life, all he really needed was companionship. That is why he was one of the most beloved members of our small community. He asked for nothing but honest friendship, and he had the most loyal friends of anyone I have ever met. He was the most devoted friend to them you could ask for.
5)My father adored his mother (I am named after her) and would easily cry upon recollecting how great she was with all of his friends when he brought them home--the cookies and milk etc. She was the cleanest, neatest, BEST mother in the world as far as he was concerned. We shall disregard the fact that "Nana" liked pink so much she dressed my father as a baby in pink. Thank God my Aunt Tish came along and my father didn't have to wear quite so much pink, although he did grow up to have a fondness for pink Brooks Brothers shirts, and they suited his coloring, which was Scottish--red hair and fair complexion.
6) My father was a Scorpio which is nothing if not the most intense sign in the Zodiac. They like to hide their piercing eyes behind their immense collection of sunglasses. Ask me how many sunglasses my dad had. Countless!
7) My father was a devoted family man and drove up every weekend to see his father after my grandmother died. Not his brother nor his sister did that.
8) When his father died, he would drive up to see me and our family. He was the only person who could handle the craziness which was our daily life with two little children with autism and an older child too--the oldest boys were away in college. He would bring funny gifts for our older son like "a Can of Florida Sunshine" and other things, and he would calmly tolerate our gigantic son with autism squashing him by sitting on his lap as he ate breakfast in our kitchen, and even laughed when our other autistic son stole his bacon, grabbing it from his plate and flashing past him into the hallway.
9) My father was a war expert. He wrote a book called
Victory Road , by Robert C. Baldridge. You can hear him on youtube if you type in his name. He was a forward observer for the Ninth Division. I proofread the book for him right after one of my kids was born. I was exhausted, but he kept calling and saying, "Are you done yet?" "Are you done yet?" like the Pope to Michaelangelo in the movie where Charlton Heston is playing Michaelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel. If my father had something he wanted done, it was a good idea to do it. Just do it!!!
10) My father had a great love of Cadillacs, which were looked down upon in our community. He didn't care, and finally got his dream car, a used black Cadillac with fins and red leather seats. The people in our community were very Anti-Semitic and called this "Bob's Kosher Kayak", or "Bob's Jew Canoe" I am ashamed to say. It makes me furious to this day that they were like this but he didn't care. My sister wanted a station wagon like everyone else.
I didn't care.
11) Way before the movie Forrest Gump, my father would walk enormous lengths and distances. He would have my mother drive him far away from our house and walk and walk until he couldn't walk any more. Then he would find a phone booth and she would pick him up. It was this sort of idiosyncrasy that caused people to think that my dad was slightly eccentric. Again, he didn't care. He never cared what people thought of him because he was a good person and he just had certain things he liked to do his way. He was also very smart. A lot smarter than most of the people who might have been judging him.
12) When my father turned 80, I made him 80 chocolate chip cookies. He died in his 80th year and I am so glad I made these for him because he put them in the freezer, didn't share them, and ate around one a day. It was the best gift I could have given him because he loved my recipe so much.
When I recently had a friend whose father died this year, a war vet, I put up this picture and song for her:
Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me and then
Spin me around till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure I was loved
If I could get another chance
Another walk, another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love to dance with my father again
When I and my mother would disagree
To get my way I would run from her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me
Then finally make me do just what my momma said
Later that night, when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he would be gone from me
If I could steal
One final glance
One final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
Cause I'd love love love to dance with my father again
:
Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream
Cause I'd love love love to dance with my father again
Happy Father's Day, Dad, I love you
jean
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