(this is rather long, but you might find it worth the read)
Memories
of Papa
Papa always claimed he could remember the celebrations that
heralded the end of WWI. He was only a
little tyke at the time, but he swore it was true. And he claimed that it was during those
celebrations that he saw his very first automobile. It began a life-long fascination with mechanical things.
Many decades later, after his children were mostly grown, Papa
started buying very old vehicles and fixing them up. His first was a 1911 Maxwell touring car, with
a large back seat. He fixed it so the
motor was humming, the lights were shinning and the paint job? Well, he painted it a lovely blue. It ran like a dream. Next, he purchased a 1923 Ford and fixed that
up. The old car bug had gotten to
him. So he went on to purchase a 1909
Maxwell with a mother-in-law seat in the back, and another ford and finally he got
a hold of a 1902 Oldsmobile, complete with a place for the buggy whip on the
front of the chasis.
He would spend many happy hours back in the old garage fixing
up the cars til they worked like a charm.
But that was not enough for Papa. He was also a bit of a showman. He loved to grab one of us kids – along with
our friends - and put us in the front seat.
Then he would crank up the car, jump in, and we would ride out onto the
country roads. He would honk the horn and
children would come running out as we passed.
Women who were outside hanging up their laundry would stand there,
open-mouthed watching us. Dogs would go
crazy because they could almost catch the vehicle which was running at the
dizzying speed of 15 miles per hour! Papa
loved it.
After a while, word got around and Papa got invites to parades
for his marvelous cars, and he eagerly took them up on it. When the first Milwaukee Fourth of July
Parade happened, they put four of Papa’s cars right up front. There was only one car ahead of him, an 1898
Olds. Only, the Oldsmobile broke down
half-way through the Parade, but all of Papa’s cars made it for the entire
length of the Parade.
Word continued to spread about Papa’s genius with old-time
mechanics.
One day, someone showed up at our door and asked for
Papa. He and Papa started talking and
they walked out together to the old garage to look at his old cars. Some time later, Papa came back alone, his
face bright with a grin that threatened to stay. “Avis, Avis,” He excited called to Mother, “You’ll
never guess what!” No, we could not
have guessed.
It seems that Papa’s visitor was from the circus, and the
circus Calliope needed fixing. Now a
Calliope is the really loud instrument you always associate with the magic of a
circus. It has a keyboard like a piano
but has pipes like an organ. You would
pump it up and shove up the lever. Then
you could either play it by hand, or you could set up the rollers to have it
play itself. It had been very popular to call folks to come
and see the wondering circuses as they passed through small Midwestern towns
during the Great Depression. But decades
later, by the time Papa got a hold of it, not a lot of folks knew much about
Calliopes.
Sure enough, it was delivered a short time later, a beautiful
Calliope that lived on an open-air brightly-colored circus wagon. This one had several different rollers to
play a ton of different songs. But just
then, it couldn’t make a peep.
Papa got to work on it.
He spent hours figuring out the mechanics and all the details that went
into making it run smoothly. Every once
in a while, he would test it, turning on the player rolls. When he did, the noise was deafening. We got reports that you could hear it all the
way across the lake.
There was only one problem with the Calliope, the fellow who
left it forgot to leave his name or address, or maybe, as a true circus person,
he did not have a permanent address.
Whatever the reason, Papa had the calliope for years to come and it was
added to the list of vehicles that we put in all the various parades and
celebrations.
But Papa had other interests as well. He and Mother were very interested in other
cultures. They travel quite a bit, but
they were also very interested in having folks from other countries come into
their home so they could share American culture with them. One Christmas, Itsoko Katsubi came to our
home and showed us how to do Origami, another Thanksgiving, someone from Israel
came and spent a lot of time with Mother, going over little-know details about
the understanding of the Torah. We had
guests from Mexico to Japan who were welcomed to join us for many major Holidays. So it was not surprising that eventually we
ended up with a foreign exchange student from Turkey.
His name was Suleymon and he was a devout Muslim. Mother, who was a devout Christian, used to
get together with him and they would compare notes about their various
religions. But instead of trying to
convert one another, Mother and Suleymon both used the experience to teach one
another about the beauties and intricacies of their respective religions. They loved it and really enjoyed their time
together.
By that time, Papa’s boys were long grown and gone, so I
suspect he was feeling a little sad that he had missed so much of their
childhood, because he had been working so much.
Now that he had a little more time, he loved to spend it with Suleymon,
teaching him all sorts of American idiosyncrasies. Especially, they loved to learn the meaning
of American phrases, such as “Low Man on the Totem Pole” or “Getting caught
with your pants down”. Suleymon and Papa would laugh for hours
together over the silliness of American language and culture. Then, Suleymon would share similar things with
Papa about Turkish culture.
Over the months, Suleymon and my folks became very close and
really enjoyed one another.
One day towards the end of Suleymon’s time with us, Suleymon
walked into the living room to see Papa, sitting in the big chair, looking very
sad. “What’s wrong, Papa?” Suleymon
inquired. Papa looked up at him a sighed.
Then he motioned for Suleymon to sit sit, and Papa told him a story.
It seems that Papa and Mother had a neighbor by the name of
Alice. Now Alice and her husband were
wonderful, gregarious people who loved to laugh. After a short time being neighbors, they
found out that Alice and Papa shared a birthday. The first year after that discovery, Alice
and Mother sent out invitations to all Papa’s friends, inviting them to
celebrate his birthday, only they had signed the invitations with Papa’s name
and added “P.S., please bring Expensive Gifts.”
Amazingly, not one of Papa’s friends said anything to him about it, so
it came as a complete surprise to Papa when the party happened. He got all sorts of wonderful gifts, like a
fur-lined (fake) toothbrush, and a diamond (also fake) studded toothpick. And Alice baked him a cake – made of mud – and
sprinkled with little candies all over the frosting. (Papa mention how hard the
cake was to cut, never suspecting why, because Mother had temporarily purloined
his glasses for the event)
That began a practical Joke war between them. Every year on their mutual birthday, Papa
and Alice would play jokes on one another and both families would get together
to help in the fun.
But now, Alice and her husband had moved into town and Papa
missed them. Their birthday was coming
up and Papa was feeling sad. It would be
their first year apart for the birthdays.
Suleymon nodded and they talked for a long time about friends and how
important friends are.
Then one of them, not sure which, came up with an idea.
Immediately, Papa got Mother to run into town to buy a roll of
newsprint, then we all got together and rolled out the paper and began to paint
wonderful things on it. As we were
painting, Suleymon stopped for a moment and looked at Papa. “How old is Alice going to be this birthday” “Um, 49, I think.” Papa answered. “49.
You sure?” Papa nodded and we all
continued our paintings.
The next day was a Sunday, a beautiful clear crisp early
spring day, perfect for a birthday celebration.
As the sun was starting its climb, Papa went outside and hooked
everything up, then we all climbed into the truck and Papa drove slowly into
town. The sky was a lovely bright blue
and the trees had frost delicately reflecting the pink of the early morning
sun. It was so peaceful and calm.
Slowly, and with great care, Papa drove up to Alice’s new
home. Gently, he backed up into the
driveway. Then he unhooked the Calliope wagon from the back of the truck. He got into
the circus wagon, cranked up the Calliope, then turned it at full volume and
let it rip!
The sound shrieked throughout
the neighborhood, waking up everyone within miles! The circus music filled the town, calling to
children of all ages to come and see the spectacle. But before anyone could stop him, Papa jumped
out of the wagon, ran to the truck, and drove off to the nearest pay phone,
where he made a call to the police complaining about the noise.
The next day, on the front page of the Delavan Enterprise was
a full color picture of Alice, standing in her driveway, pink curlers in her hair,
fluffy slippers on her feet, helpless, looking at the circus wagon that blocked
her driveway, complete with brightly painted banners that read
”Happy
Birthday, Alice! 59 Today!”
(Final Note: When I
used to tell this story as part of a sermon, I would always end it with a long
pause, waiting for folks to stop laughing.
Then I would say
“They are gone now,
Papa, Mother and Alice. But they left
behind them a legacy of love, friendship, and laughter. I invite you now to think of your legacy and
what you leave in the way of memories to those who come after you.”
Then I would play the folk song “Where are our Dear Fathers?” It always ended up with a lot of watery eyes
and a lot of smiles. Lots of sharing
afterwards.)
