In Memory of My Dad

A little over a week and a half ago, my dad passed away at age 60.  Since then it’s been strange: I’m beginning the long process of realizing he’s not here anymore and dealing with how to go back to my regular life.  I’m also trying to figure out what to say about him.  Of course my dad taught me a lot about life and how to be a good person.  However, I think the thing I got the most out of from my dad was his ability to try to experience as much culture as he could.

My dad was the kind of person who could talk to anyone, a trait I always wished I had.  This lead to his three decade long career in radio, from working on air as a newsman (I certainly inherited his deep voice) to selling advertising over the radio.  It was work that took him from Connecticut to New Hampshire to Boston and back to New Hampshire again.  He saw a great many changes over the years as the idea of a rock station saw the advent of FM radio to the rise of corporate ownership to the new frontier of online radio, he saw it all and always looked for what was new and interesting.

One of the things I always loved about my dad was his ability to embrace new things.  When I was a teenager, he’d borrow my Beck and Radiohead CDs for his car.  After watching the Fatboy Slim video “Weapon of Choice”, he gave me money to buy the album because he wanted to hear it.  Sure there were times when he might’ve played along because that’s what parents do, but my dad definitely found plenty to enjoy in music outside of what he listened to while growing up.  It lead me to be open to his suggestions as well, giving his old favorites a chance when he finally got them in CD format.

Thanks in part to his work in radio I spent a good chunk of my teen years going to concerts.  One high school friend, while offering his condolences, reminded me of one such show where he got us a limo to take us to a show.  It culminated when we went to the infamous Woodstock 99 festival.  Although it’s impossible to think of that event without thinking of the sad aftermath, that weekend is one of my most cherished memories of my dad, from laughing at the stoners or beating the heat in the shadow of the rising platform MuchMusic used for their dispatches or seeing Elvis Costello, one of his favorites (he owned a poster, which has to be at least five feet by seven feet, for at least 20 years), do a low key set Sunday afternoon.

In his later years he’d continue to explore, going to art shows, concerts and films, often at the nearby Yale campus, where he was a student in the early 70s.  Though we’d separated geographically, we kept in touch thanks to a weekly phone call I’d make every Sunday or through instant messages, texts and even some Skype video chats.  Since I’d found my own tastes, I’d be the one to recommend stuff back to him.

His tastes certainly influenced mine, from exposing me to Monty Python and science fiction (both good and the hilariously bad), to taking me to see Nights of Cabiria or renting Dr. Strangelove for me when I was in high school.  While I may have been too young to grasp fully what Fellini was going for in that late neorealist gem, seeing it early and with plenty of other films he loved set the stage for me being up for anything.  My Netflix DVD queue has never dipped below 485 since starting it, with everything from bizarre arthouse fare to big blockbusters, and I have to thank my dad for giving me that insatiable thirst for the diverse world of popular art.

Of course I’m still coming to terms with what happened and what I’ve lost: my dad, but also my guide.  He was my first template into how to interact with the world and he left me, as well as my sister and anyone who knew him, with a great philosophy of trying to go into life ready to experience the multitude of things even the most humdrum of existences can afford.  In a way, it also reminds me of the passing of Roger Ebert, one of my pop culture heroes.  He spent his life opening up the world of movies to a mass audience, and although it is certainly sad that he is gone, his legacy in those whose lives he touched is immeasurable and helped make them better, more thoughtful human beings.  My dad’s influence is pretty clear on me: besides how I look, my voice and other genetic things, he raised me to be a student of life, and my life is richer for it.

Rest in Peace Dad.