The Perfect Father's Day Gift

Father's Day.  It means a whole different set of things these days than in years past.  

I remember the days when we would honor my father by giving him his gifts and hugs and kisses on his wonderfully stubbly face, and then visit our two grandfathers, the patriarchs, presenting them with hugs, kisses, and gifts as well.  When there were no more grandfathers and we were all on our own, Mom would have her house ready for whoever wanted to stop in and see Dad, and my mother-in-law would do the same.  The patriarchs of our young adult years, my father and father-in-law, lived within a half hour of each other, and the short distance allowed us to get to both homes to show each of them how important they were to us.  I remember the feeling of having to see our fathers and grandfathers on that particular day, or we'd feel a sense of guilt and disappointment.  I remember the gifts too.  It became a guessing game to buy our Dads something that they didn't already have.  Still, they graciously accepted our well-meaning gestures and savored the visits from their children and grandchildren.

Now, I am the patriarch.  I have the stubbly face...and four kids and two plus one-on-the-way grandkids. I have to admit, the Hallmark celebration of Father's Day doesn't appeal to me.  The anxiety and anticipation of the day brings forth many feelings.  It goes without saying that I want to hear from or see my children.  I am fortunate that all of my children live close enough that we can see each other whenever we have the desire.   I don't like the buildup of the day.  I don't like the obligation the kids feel thanks to the ads of organizations that promote holidays, and those that deal specifically in clothes and products that cater to men.   I don't want my children to feel the pressure of Father's Day.  I am a simple man, and I like a simple day.  I also like visits from my children any day of the year.

This year I was the luckiest man in the world.  My granddaughter Jenna celebrated her second birthday during Father's Day week, and the party was on Father's Day at my son's house, where there are chickens!  All the children and grandchildren were there to celebrate Jenna's big day, and to honor me for Father's Day too!  

This year, my daughter Karen, who lives in Philadelphia, gave me a card with the pictured coupon enclosed. When it comes to offers like this, I am somewhat indecisive.  I don't want them to spend their money on me, and I don't want the decision of where to go to fall on me.  Little did I know how important and therapeutic the excursion that resulted from this coupon would be.....A day at the beach, a day on Broadway, an afternoon at Marsh Creek State Park...they all sounded good, but their mention never resulted in an outing.  I wanted simpler.  When she mentioned a trip into Philly on a beautiful summer day in late July, doing whatever we felt like doing at the time, I couldn't refuse!

The first thing we did after we drove into the city was meet my son John, who works in center city, for lunch.  As soon as we were finished eating, we strolled to a nearby park and I couldn't help but smile at the sunshine and cool summer breezes...and join them in posing for a selfie. When John had to go back to work, we drove to Karen's apartment in South Philly. The little stroll that followed of the surrounding neighborhoods would make this the best day of my summer!

Our first stop on our 'on foot' journey led us to this place.  It's a place I've thought about and talked about often...my grandfather's barber shop on Porter Street, which was on the first floor of his house.  I spent many a late Sunday afternoon or early Sunday evening in a chair in that shop in the 1960's and early 1970's.  I remember sitting on the stoop in the picture that belonged to the next door neighbor...just a kid socializing and playing.
Around the corner from the barber shop was a little shop where we could get a tiny sample of water ice for a nickel.  We looked forward to this treat every summer Sunday we spent in that neighborhood.  This picture is from the 1930's when the shop was in its early days of business.  My grandfather is the man on the left.  

Today, there is no barber shop.  The storefront has been replaced by bricks and a residential window.  The neighbor's stoop is still there.  The water ice shop is only a memory.  Still, the feeling of being there brought back good memories of roots and family and friendly faces.
Our next stop was only a few blocks away...my maternal grandparents' house on Juniper Street.

This photo is of my mother on her wedding day in 1946, and the man on the left is my Grandpop Giacchino, who was the dearest soul you could ever meet.  He died in 1967, when I was ten years old.  It was the first time in my life that I felt uncontrollable heartbreak.  This house had two kitchens:  one on the first floor and one in the basement.  When we would go for Sunday visits to this house, homemade ravioli and gnocchi would be placed on cookie sheets from one end of that basement kitchen to the other.  We were fascinated as we would watch them form the shapes of the pasta as if it was second nature.  To this day, I've not tasted any Italian food that matches its goodness.  I remember playing games on the front porch and stoop of this house, and entertaining my younger sister and cousins at the same time.

The front of the Juniper Street house was more recognizable after forty years.  The steps and landing were still there and the archway, which always fascinated me with it's brick architecture, was intact.  More memories from my history came to the forefront and a feeling of happiness overcame me.  I was proud and happy to share these times with Karen.  We tried to see if my mother's cousin, who was also my Godmother, and who also lived on Juniper Street, was home.  Unfortunately, she was out, most likely with one of her children.  I hope to get back to see her soon.
From Juniper Street we went to 13th Street, the home of my cousin Linda.  My heart raced as I labored over the decision to knock on the door to see if she was home.  She was, and she was so gracious and welcoming.  She shared some family history and we updated her as well. I had seen her at family funerals and weddings, but talking when there was no 'occasion' other than a visit was a gift that couldn't be matched.  It was a glorious follow up to the Juniper Street leg of the excursion.  The exchange of phone numbers and email addresses gave hope for contact with her despite our busy lives.  

Linda had suggested that we walk to our next stop, which was to this house on Iseminger Street.  This is the first house that my parents bought.  It was just blocks from their relatives, and served them well as a starter home.  I was born in February of 1957, and my parents moved their growing family to Secane, Delaware County, Pennsylvania in March of 1958.  Though I lived in this house for over a year, and visited the surrounding streets countless times in my youth, I cannot remember seeing this house before this week.  Another blank space in my timeline filled in!

I don't have a bucket list.  If I die and I haven't done it, so be it.  If I die and I haven't seen it, so be it!  If I get to do it or see it, I'll feel fortunate and blessed.  If I did have a bucket list, though, this day of sharing beauty, warmth, memories, and history with my little girl would be on it....and crossed off of it!!

Thank you, Karen, for the perfect Father's Day gift!