(Photograph by Henry X Arenberg)
The guy with the uncharacteristically serious look on his face is our dad, Ben Roffe. The Year was 1989- which made him seventy years old at the time this picture was taken.
The Place- Bub City.
The Occasion- my fortieth birthday party hosted by my friends, the Zisooks and the Felds.
Was I ever blindsided! I had bragged for years that I was too smart to ever be tripped up by a stealth birthday party op.
They really got me.
(I’m wearing a Saturday Night Live tee shirt because we had just landed from a trip to NYC. We hung out with the cast and crew all week.)
It’s how I got duped. Bill had told me that me that my stepdaughters made dinner reservations there to celebrate my birthday. We had to show up. (Usually we never went out the same day that we came back from a trip but this was a special occasion, he said.)
I went- grubby, no makeup, jeans, just to be a good sport. Voilà! All my friends and family were there in force.
I was shocked.
A good time was had by all.
I guess I’m thinking about birthdays because last Friday, October twenty-third, was my dad’s.
He would have been ninety-six. (But heck, he made it to almost ninety-five. And he’d be the first to tell you that he had a good long run. Kenny and I have NO complaints.)
We wanted to visit him so on Sunday we took a drive out to the cemetery.
It was a beautiful, sunny autumn day. We hung out for a while, I filled him in on what was new, Kenny visited with our grandparents and aunt and uncle who are also resting in adjoining real estate and then it was time to get going to do other errands.
We said goodbye, I dropped off his birthday gift and then it was on with the business of Life.
True, it was a short visit.
But no time or distance can ever really separate me from my dad. I’ve got the memories- along with all his quirks, likes and dislikes.
So much of what I read, watch, like, do and eat is either his nature or nurture that I never really have to miss him.
He’s with me whenever I do pretty much anything.
(We did disagree about coconut, however. Me- yes. Him- no.)
Because he got to celebrate so many birthdays, my kids knew him well.
(More than I can say for his father, my paternal grandfather. He died on my father’s twenty-first birthday and Dad never got over it. He missed his father every day and Kenny and I only got to hear second-hand about what a terrific guy our Roffe grandfather had been.)
Our kids got to find out first hand the measure of their man.
Two cherished memories…
Usually, grandparents- beaming with pride- turn out in force when their tiny tot grandkids take to their very first ski slope.
Snowmass has a terrific Kids Ski School. On any given holiday, you could always see these happy ancestors proudly filming their schussing progeny for posterity.
In our case, it was a little different. Dad learned to ski at eighty-one.
On his first day on the slopes, a very proud grandson, Nick Ross (the youngest snowboard instructor in the history of Aspen Skico) got to watch his grandfather make his first turns.
Nick was busting his uniform buttons with pride.
“How do you like it, Grandpa?” Nick excitedly called out.
“I love it!” said Grandpa. “It’s a great feeling!”
(We don’t have a photo of my dad skiing. You’ll just have to make do with this legend.)
How many people can say their father was a “never-ever” at eighty-one?
He was game. He just never said no to anyone or anything.
The wedding of another grandson, Greg Roffe, also conjures up some precious reminiscences.
The wedding was held in Indianapolis.
Natasha flew in from the East Coast to watch her cousin get married, I flew in from Colorado and my dad here in Chicago was the designated driver.
We took the Skyway to Indy, had two happy days celebrating the nuptials, and then, on Sunday, Dad donned his chauffeur’s cap and drove us back to Chicago.
But not without a pit stop.
“Oh, look!” cried Natasha. “There’s a Target! I love those! Can we stop, Grandpa? I want to go in.”
(If you’ve been reading this post closely, you’ll already know what his answer will be.)
“You know, Grandpa, they have everything. And such good prices, too,” added my little miser. “I bet you can’t go in there and not buy something.”
Depression-raised and careful about spending money on himself, my father rose to the challenge.
“Oh, no, Natasha,” he laughed. “I can go in there and not buy anything. That’s no problem for me.”
“I bet you’ll want to buy something,” challenged Natasha (Sky Masterson) Ross Tofias.
“I’ll take that bet!” was the confidant answer of Nicely Nicely Johnson Roffe.
The wager was on.
Sky was giggling with anticipation.
Nicely Nicely knew he had this one in the bag.
But the minute he walked into the store…
“Pajamas! I need those. I haven’t had a new pair in three years. And look! There’s a cd for Moo Moo. I’ll take that and that and this..”
Natasha loved winning that bet. She was delighted.
But not as delighted as my dad was at losing it.
Happy birthday, Dad.
From all of us.
Hope you like your present.
Much love,
The Gang
Now take a look at another great father.
Love to all of yours.
Ellen, you’ve shared reminiscences of your father, now it’s my turn. Michael Bárány would have been 94 years old today (he didn’t quite make it to 90). And yes, I wrote a crossword puzzle about him (and others sharing his October 29 birthday).
Here’s to Ben and Michael, of blessed memories!
Thanks, my friend. Yes, L’ Chaim! (And I’m still rooting for the Mets.)
How can one not comment?
I, too, had a surprise 40th birthday thrown for me. The key to its success was the three week lapse between that date and the actual party. And, I think our friend, Joan, was the putative reason we went to the (old) Park Hyatt for an “event.”
Lost my dad just after we had celebrated his 90th birthday, when his grandchildren surrounded their beloved Pop and showered him with the affection he deserved. He, too, was a great guy.
Now that I am going to be a Poppop to Carey’s pending son, I can’t wait to be the one who can’t say no to him.
Happy birthday, Ben!
Thanks, Michael. For the commentary and the good wishes. And Mazel Tov! I’m thrilled for you and the rest of the Shindler clan. Wonderful news. The Circle of Life continues.
Thanks for bringing tears to my eyes first thing this morning… I feel so fortunate to have known your Dad for many years & my Dad still says to this day what a great guy & neighbor he was! Handsome, quiet, bright, & oh so patient.. Aren’t you & Kenny lucky to have been raised by such a wonderful guy! I think of him every time I sweep my garage!!! Thanks for the beautiful tribute!
And you are so lucky that your dear dad is still here! I have great memories of him, too, neighbor. Remember when all the dads on the street planted the trees to “beautify” the neighborhood? Thanks for the shout out and love to all the clan- especially its littlest new edition. Love, 810
Well said but I think he would have been 96!
OMG! I am an idiot. I fixed it. Thanks, Bro.
Nice tribute to a lovely man
Thanks, ML! A great co-grandfather for future Roffe generations. Hope your weather is better than ours. It’s 39! Have fun in the sun.
“Great Guy”: what a wonderfully direct sentiment!
So glad you had such great memories to treasure!
-MAS
Thanks, MAS. Yep. It said it all. And that’s carved in stone. Say hi to Canada for me.
With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I can relate to everything you have written. I also was lucky enough to have a dad who always said yes to everything. He was a most generous, one of a kind character. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him and smile.
I hope Ben & Morrie are together feeling very proud of their children. Happy Birthday to the best of the best!!!!!!
What a great thought! I’d like to think so, too. Thanks, dear friend. For the party all those years ago and for your wonderful comment today.