Happy Father's Day all!

Mine could be Happier.
I'm thankful for the fond memories I can hold in my heart on this widely celebrated holiday. Today I miss the men who taught me the most about patience, kindness, n fun in my childhood.
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My Father was Charles, known widely as "Chuck," n also as "Red." (Never as Charley).
My "Gramps", his dad's name was Donald. Donald's dad's name was Charles. Charles's dad's name was Donald, n on n on.... for hundreds of years for many generations.
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Alas, my bro, Donald the rebel, did not name one of his boys the chosen Charles name, screwing up poor Dad's expectation of family name lineage forever! There's currently just one nephew, who has another last name, with that special name for his middle initial.
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My Dad was the eldest of four brother's who grew up in a paper mill n logging town in Northern Maine. After the birth of the fourth child, when he was eight-years-old, his mother, (my grandmother) had complications n ended up with severe, irreversible brain damage. She spent the rest of her non-functional life in an institution.
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My dear Gramps, Donald, raised the four boys by himself, with the older boys chipping in. It was a tough n humble life they had, with no luxuries.
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Note:
When the men all got together again for visits later in life, the activity was always fast n furious card playing: Bridge, Pennuckle, n Cribbage (my fav).
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Red met my Mom at the University of Vermont. After the Army sent him back from Korea they were married. He had no quams about having five children of his own. After moving to the Metro-west region of MA, where I was raised, he worked hard as an Electronics Engineer, n earned his Master's Degree.
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The best part about having my particular Dad, was his corney n playful sense of humor. Silly, stupid sayings were always thrown in the social-gathering-mix. He flirted, teased, n tickled, especially with the pretty women, who often shrieked.
During the collection at Church services n large family dinners he always said, "Please pass the bacon!" N would get a jab from my dis-approving Mom for doing so.
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My Gramps, Donald, had a Camp at a lake near where he raised his boys, where he spent summers. The old house was remodeled n taken over by his youngest n Daughter-in-Law from Germany. In the winter he traveled down to our house with another son n family for Thanksgiving each year, then would stay the winter until it was time to go back to Camp.
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I got to spend time getting to know him well. He had cool, old stories, n silly old scottish songs to sing (that you could barely understand when he was loaded). He'd worked a year to buy a model T-Ford in the early 1900's, just to give it away free to his brother who needed it more. He liked trees better than crowds of people. At the camp I observed him screech "Whooppie!" which echoed across the lake as he ran up the pier n launched a huge "Cannon-ball" leap into the water- Whoosh!
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The man had every reason to be miserable, but he could spontaneously create joy n laughter around him. I used to paint him pictures depicting stories he told me. Gramps was the only person in the house who never told me to stop playing my guitar to watch TV. He listened to hours of my practicing, n always appeared to enjoy it. He became big part of who I am today. I last saw him alive in '88. He never made it back South again after having a heart attack.
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My sister's always quip at me about being Daddy's little girl. I was the quiet, shy one of the whole group. When I got upset in the ruckus of my hyper siblings, my dad could always comfort me n get me to speak. He often took me along on errand rides n to his office on Saturdays.
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He taught me how to drive, n never minded after that allowing me to drive him around at every opportunity. My Mother was much less patient with me. Dad also used to bring me clothes shopping for my birthday every year, to whatever store I wanted. He was a bargain-hunter, n always trusted me to make sensible choices. When I was a teen, he called a friend n got me my first job. He took me to movies n some Red Sox games. He let me use his 8mm movie Camera n editing equiptment. He loved camera work, n so do I. There's so much I wouldn't've done in my life without his influence.
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My children, fortunately, were able to know him more than a decade of their lives before he became ill, n he began his Chemo treatments at the Dana-Farber Institute. In '91 after a year of suffering n near-starvation he had to leave my Mother behind.
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I thought I'd be coming back the next week-end from the Cape to visit him again, n said "See ya later." I will, but looks like it'll be on the other side. I attribute all the electrical appliance odd-glitches around the house, such as the TV turning itself on, changing channels, n volume changes, on his ghost. After all, he knew how all that stuff worked... n who else would know that old film we once saw together was on some channel I'd never watched?
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About one month later, my Gramps, his dad, in the hospital up in Maine left life too. He'd reportedly been pretty depressed about losing Charles. He couldn't go to the funeral. I'd sent him a print of my Dad from the old days, smiling, n waving with a silly grin. There I was, on April Fool's Day, in Northern Maine (nine hours away from Home) at Gramps' funeral, hearing Gramps say in my head, "April Fool! Bet ya didn't think you'd be in Maine today, did ya?" After the service all my cousins went out n got drunk in his honor, n we had a great time! (The cousin's know what I mean by "Flask! Flask!")
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Fifteen years later, I'm still sorely missing Dad n Gramps. To this day I'll still abstain from card-playing, unless I'm visiting with Dad's brothers, of course...