My daughter graduates...

When I was 10 years old I accompanied my father on his Saturday money pick-up route. He owned vending machines in a few service stations, bars and luncheonettes. He had a guy stock the machines with coffee, cigarettes and candy during the week, but he made the rounds himself to get the cash.

I really liked going with him because I usually got a candy bar, saw some weird-looking people, and had lunch with him at one of the barrooms. I think that is where I picked up my now too common habit of dining with bartenders. It was also one of the few times during the week I was alone with him. I loved to watch him open the machines with this strange looking tiny key, that had a short, hollow, round shaft. The door would swing open and he would reach down to a metal container filled with nickels,dimes, and quarters. He would pour the loot in a thick cloth bag and lock up the machine. I carried the bag for him sometimes. It was so heavy. I was quite sure we were very rich, but just wanted to be quiet about it.

The candy bar I had at 9 am was wearing off fast and I was getting hungry. Today we were going to have lunch at Ed's Tavern, a working class joint with that unmistakable smell of beer, urine,and smoke, topped off with a subtle whiff of middle-age despair.  Ed's was in East Haven, a tough little section of the greater New Haven area just over the bridge. My Uncle Jimmy was the bridge operator and we would beep and wave at him as we passed by.
                                                                                                                                                                 My father would order a half dozen clams on the half shell and a shot and a beer. I would get a coke. Then for lunch, it was an Italian sausage sandwich for him and a cheeseburger and fries with a coke for me. I sat at the end of the bar so that I would be less noticeable and not annoy the regular patrons with my youthful face and shinny blond hair. When you are getting loaded at noon, a kid like that can piss you off, but it was O.K., I was Big Bob's kid. I had learned how to fit in to this club of World War Two working stiffs. I was quiet, and when Big Bob gave me a quarter to feed the oldies juke-box, I pick the right tunes. I only played "Mack the Knife" by Bobby Darin, my old man's favorite, or "Kansas City" by Wilbert Harrison, because I heard my father once say "It's got a good beat."

"Are we going to Ed's now" I asked, my stomach rolling.

"One more stop," he said " I got a new location."

The new location was a library at Yale University. Yale, the school of Presidents, good and bad, baseball commissioners, captains of industry and Brooke Shields. The second oldest College in America. The place that invented Ivy League clothing. Yale was New Haven, and anyone who grew up there knew how brilliant you had to be to be admitted. Or at least have a family with a great deal of pull.

We walked into a hallway and stripped the coffee machine of it's silver provided by the  caffeine charged students readying themselves to run the world.

As we were about to leave the hallway, my father took me by the hand and said "Look in here."
I peered into the actual library. I had never seen a room like it . The walls and floors were dark, heavy, wood, the massive study tables the same, and over each table were hanging two green Tiffany-style glass lamps. The rugs were rich tones of burgundy and navy. Enveloping the entire room, bookcases with very important looking, thick, leather bound books. It looked like something out of an old English movie I had seen on late night TV.

There were about a dozen future leaders of our nation, staring into their reason for being there. It was the most silent room I had ever been in with that many people.

My father knelt down next to me and breathed,"Some day I would love for you to go here." 
I nodded, and we both agreed, I would go to Yale and become a lawyer. He never finished high school.

Two years later my father took all his bags of silver and bought a restaurant. We were broke in three years. He fell apart emotionally. I left home at 17, had a child at 19. I put myself though two years of a small college,then got caught up in radio, and that was the end of my formal education.

Last Monday along with about 900 other parents, I sat in the quad of Wake Forest University, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, a school called "one of the new Ivey League." The sky was a rich blue, the green of the lovely oaks that ring the quad swayed,caressed by a soft spring breeze. My eyes searched the stage for her, and then I heard the words I had waited so many years for.... "Landon Lacey." My daughter was a graduate of a top tier university.

Bells rang out announcing the end of this great day, and Landon, her mom and sister, her uncle and brother, her maternal grandparents and friends, and her father, all went out for a celebratory lunch. It was wonderful, one of the great days of my life. We gave Landon gifts, laughed, took pictures, and hugged each other.

For a moment I left the family to remember my father. By coincidence, he moved with my mother, sister and brother, from New Haven, Connecticut to Winston-Salem in the 1980's to restart life.  He died 20 years ago.

I hope his spirit was in the breeze last Monday. It was as close as we ever got to that day at Yale.

He is buried about three miles from Wake Forest.

Comments

[kim]

bob, i really enjoyed the blog. i have seen pictures of you, but not your family. you really do have a beautiful family. you're to hard on yourself in the looks department. just look at landon how beautiful she is and she looks just like you and from the things you say about her she must have a beautiful heart just as you do. i'm so thankful for the show and for you and sheri letting us have a peek into your off air lives. it gives us listeners a sense of friendship with the two of you. thanks, kim

[nancy]

Bob,
A beautiful story about your
life. You have so much to be
proud of.. Our Children are
extensions of our lives.
Congratulations to Landon.
I enjoy your show each morning
and thanks for sharing with
your listners. God Bless....

[nancy]

Bob,
A beautiful story about your
life. You have so much to be
proud of.. Our Children are
extensions of our lives.
Congratulations to Landon.
I enjoy your show each morning
and thanks for sharing with
your listners. God Bless....

[angela]

Bob, I was overcome with emotion when I read this account of your memories of your father and your daughter's graduation. Isn't it special that your daughter, unknowingly, brought you and your father back together that day? Congratulations...you deserve every nugget of happiness that comes your way.

[Louise]

Congratulations on your daughter - what awesome parents she has. Despite having had her so young, and being divorded now - the world would be a better place if all parents - young or old, divorce or not - put their children before themselves like you and Gigi.

I miss you & Sheri terribly. I'm from Syracuse and the talk radio station turned into an oldies station. Hope you come back ASAP!

[Andrea]

Bob, that was beautiful. It made me cry!

[Linda]

Congratulations to both of you on a job very well done! When my son graduated, I began to weep uncontrollably as soon as they played the first note of " Pomp and Circumstance ". Just remembering the day still causes me to tear up. I've felt your joy and know your pride. Keep in mind, you have 2 more to go! How rich you truly are.

[Nate]

You have a beautiful family in may ways!

[landon]

Daddy,

I sobbed when I first read this. A few weeks later, reading it again, along with all of the comments from the people who love to listen to you, it makes me warm inside. Wake Forest is the greatest gift I will ever be given, and your selfless, fatherly love is responsible. You're my mentor, friend, and role model. You're every bit as amazing as everyone believes; I only wish they could see the other beautiful facets to your personality that I get to enjoy. Graduation was the greatest day of my life thus far, and you are the only person responsible for it. I will miss you like hell in Thailand, although I'm sure there's a Plaza or Embassy Suites close by, so at least you can visit. You're the most generous, honest man I've ever met, and I only hope my future husband can live up to my role model. I loved talking on the phone with you tonight. I love you so much.

Your baby girl
Landon

[Bishop]

Fantastic post Bob. I've been listening for a long time, but I rarely get to check your blog. I'm glad I did. I am the father of a beautiful little 6 year old girl that bears a slight resemblance to Landon. This was the first time I had seen a picture of Landon, so it really struck me as I looked at the pictures and read the post that in the blink of an eye that will be the picture of myself and my daughter as she (hopefully) graduates from college.

Bittersweet.