Pop

I have been thinking a lot about Pop lately. Not the drink like soda, but my father. His birthday was earlier this month, as was my parents' wedding anniversary. Though he passed away in March of 2002, I always tend to think of him more during July. Not quite sure why really. But two things occurred this week that were different from my normal remembrances of him.

About three weeks ago our washer broke. We didn't get a new one delivered until this past Tuesday (Don't get me started about laundromats - maybe that will be another story sometime). Since the washer and dryer are in a closet located in a narrow hallway between the bedroom and main hallway. In that hall is a bookcase that had to be moved before the washer came, so Monday I unloaded the bookcase and moved the books into the living room. Before I emptied the bookcase I looked at it holding all those books and realized it was 51 years old!

Pop had made it for me when I came back from Germany in 1969 and moved the family into a rental home before I went to Vietnam in January 1969. It was put in the basement and suffered some flooding while I was gone. I lost some books but otherwise, the bookcase made it through.

It has traveled from there (Washington, PA) to Ft. Knox to England to Germany to Ft. Leavenworth to the University of Delaware to the Finger Lakes of New York to New Jersey (4 different locations) to Chambersburg (PA) to Lexington, VA, and now to Stuarts Draft, 30 miles north. 13 moves and it still is just as shaky as it was when it was first built. I'm afraid to do anything with it for fear it will fall apart. But it has stood the test of time.

 

The other thing that happened was an answer to a quiz question on the morning local weather forecast, again on Tuesday. The question was "What NYC landmark is called the melting pot of the World?". The answer was Times Square. I knew that because Pop once told me that while he was in the Army Air Forces during WW2, he went to a bar in Times Square that had the reputation that if you stayed at the bar for 24 hours someone you knew would come in. He couldn't remember the name of the bar or I have forgotten it, but I remember what he said about it. He never said if he saw anyone he knew, but then he didn't spend 24 hours there either!

One last thing - I'm sure that I've told you the story as to why we called our father Pop. If not, I'll save that for another time.