Traffic Yields Reflections On Dad, 28 Years After He Died

Two days back, ‘exactly’ (it seems say ‘The Sting,’ (finally airing again on TCM, March 18th–do not have the time), is written such, not with quotes, as I have done so many times here) 28 years after the March 8-9, 1994, when in the early hours of the later day, my father died, I sat in my car in “monster” traffic, roughly 11 P.M. on the F.D.R. Drive.

Some reflections follow:

It was about that time I got home that night 28 years earlier and saw the note indicating my mother, who did not drive, had taken my father to the hospital. He did not come home, dying there, hours later.

“I am not chasing you” were his last words to me, not terrible, but certainly not I love you. It was a complicated relationship, (are not most, if not all such?!!) however, surely, he would be proud that I am more like him (i.e. charitable and truly giving, even idealistic, for example when he winced in emotional pain regarding the horrors that permeate local news I scoffed, but now I can not even bear to listen) than he noticed while on earth.

Next and in sum up, as I told a homeless man, perhaps in lieu of “forking over” legal tender, go to your family, especially your parents and both sew and reap the good that can and will come of having one. Adjust, perhaps compromise, without “selling out,” your thinking.

I am not “chasing you,” but on to a good deed, although not necessarily good for me. Oh how I wish I had Dad’s thoughts on that and other matters. He was a good man.