Pop
Dad, Pop, Poppy, Ken, Kenneth and as my mom would call him Kenny or sometimes nudy short for nudnik .
An endearing term that she would call him.
Different names though we all knew him as good man, and kind man never who had a harsh word for any of us oh there were disagreements, or loud conversations as we would call them.
A hard working man that put his family before all else.
Pop was an avid reader, he would read the New York Times from cover to cover every Sunday Morning, it became a ritual which I enjoy today, hot pot of coffees pancakes that mom would make ands sitting down to read the paper. Not only did he love to read the NY Times, and local paper he read Tom Clancy books, (Show thickness) the way you and I would read a short paperback. I would get a book for his birthday or fathers day and I would ask him a bout a week or two later have you started that book? Already knowing his answer and he would say “oh finished that one!” and he would go on to tell me about the next book he was into.
Something’s did not come easy to him but there was one that certainly did ….the gift of conversation. Being such an avid reader he was up to date on all the current events. Name a section of the New York Times and he knew what was going on Local politics, and world events, financial events, theater real-estate what was going on in the business world, that they were building a Wendy’s in Monroe on route 25. He could pick up a conversation with a complete stranger and be talking for hours. That’s how you knew Pop was feeling better.
You know it’s the things in life that sometimes didn’t go quite as planned that standout as the memories we have of special times together. These are often the ones we cherish the most.
The fishing trip that we both looked so forward to that ended with a few trout caught, but started with a tangled fishing line, and some wet feet.
Or the camping trip that ended in a lot of laughing and joking as we rode home from Macedonia state park in the little White Plymouth Cricket that started with a rainstorm, some wet sleeping bags and some soggy socks.
Pop was part of the Great Generation, as they are sometimes referred to, men who witnessed and lived through World War II. These were the generation of men who left child rearing to the moms. But Pop was always there for his boys, the plays, and cub scouts, boy scouts for me and my brother the theater and art shows. I remember playing a tree in Chicken Little, it wasn’t my greatest role, but I do remember seeing Pop standing at the back of the gym for his son’s grand performance.
It’s not the houses, cars or jewelry that we take with us but the memories of the relationships that we build in our lives, the relationships that will bind us like a thread of a fine tapestry through time together.
God Bless you Dad, Pop, Poppy, Ken, Kenneth and Kenny you will be missed